Darkness Runs Deep
by SGAFan
Summary: Sheppard is captured by an unknown threat. Will his team find him in time? Warning: dark fic and Sheppard whumping! Rated T for now.
1. Chapter 1

_**Darkness Runs Deep**_

The canvas bag over his head was stifling. Sounds all around him found his ears, but John couldn't decipher what was going on. Fear pushed at him, but he pushed back, refusing to give in to its call. He tensed as he felt his shirt ripped from his body and his bound hands pulled over his head. The faint squeaking of a pulley whined in his ears and he felt himself pulled upwards. His arms stretched over his head and then, slowly, his whole body left the ground. He fought instinctive fear but he remained still and turned his senses outward, trying to figure out what was going on.

John cocked his head slightly at the sound of heavy footsteps approaching him. "Who are you?" he asked firmly. Without his eyes, there was no way he was ready for the fist that buried itself in his ribcage. Pain ripped through him and he felt his breath explode from his lungs. Panic gripped him for a moment as he struggled to breathe, before he managed to pull in a loud, wheezing breath, then another, his lucidity returning.

"Shut up." The deep, heavily accented voice was strangely calm.

John swallowed hard and listened, allowing his primal instincts to take over. Again, the heavy footsteps shuffled, the sound coming directly in front of him. Without sparing a moment, John lashed out with his left foot, satisfied as his heavy combat boot met soft flesh.

The object of his attack yelled loudly in pain, and behind the canvas bag, John grinned in satisfaction. His happiness was short lived as he felt two strong sets of hands grab each of his legs. John twisted his body as he struggled to free himself. He felt like a snared animal, and fought with the ferocity to match it. The rope burned into his wrists but still he battled, refusing to give in. He heard a deep, dark laugh an instant before another fist to the gut again stole his breath. Haze clouded his mind and the struggle ended. John felt his ankles bound tightly together, before his feet were pulled behind him and secured. Powerless, he hung there, blind, and at the mercy of his unknown captors.

Slowly, his mind cleared as his fast breathing once again turned regular. Questions, laced with uncertainty raced through his head, but the throbbing pain in his ribs suppressed his curiosity. He clenched his jaw and remained silent as the heavy footsteps once again moved around him.

"You are strong." The voice that accompanied the heavy footsteps was deep and laced with a thick, unfamiliar accent. "Many that cross my path do not fight. Others learn early that fighting leads to... more unpleasant incidences. Some do not learn… and their time with me is brief."

The voice held a note of finality that John instantly understood. Tensing slightly, he drew in a quiet breath. "What do you want with me?" He held his tone even and confident.

"Many things. Our paths have not crossed before. There is much we must know about you."

"All you had to do is ask," John quipped darkly, "this isn't exactly how you make friends."

A grunt that was nearly a chuckle preceded the man's next comment. "I am not interested in friendship, only everything you know about your people and your technology."

John closed his eyes as his mind raced. Who were these people? His mind touched briefly on his team. _You guys better be safe..._ Darkly, he felt the touch of irony at his thoughts. _Like there's anything I can do at the moment if they're not..._ His interrogator's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Let us start with a name."

"Fred?" John immediately quipped. Pain exploded from his back, tearing a hissing breath from him as one of his interrogator's men hit him twice with what John could only surmise was a long narrow stick or whip.

"Do not make this hard on yourself," the interrogator said quietly. "What is your name?"

"You know," John grunted, "you're not exactly making me trust you..." Another lash across his back interrupted him. John squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to take a breath. Deep inside him an insistent fear pushed at the edges of his control. He was blind, tied... helpless. He didn't know who his interrogators were, what they wanted, or what threat they posed. The cold clench of his gut brought realization to him. He was facing one of his greatest fears; to be helpless. At that moment, John didn't care about himself, or his health, but only about Atlantis; his friends... his family. He needed information before he could act and being beat to a bloody pulp wasn't going to help him get it. John sighed quietly. "John Sheppard," he softly supplied. "You?" he ventured.

"My name is of no concern to you, John Sheppard."

John closed his eyes in frustration.

"Where are you from?" his interrogator asked.

John swallowed against the snug cord that held the sack around his head. "Another world." He pushed back against his fear and held tightly to his wits; stalling... buying time until he could learn something useful and sort things out. _Just get me out of here alive..._

"And that world would be?" the interrogator pressed him for specifics.

"Far away." John felt the tension in the room shift, and barely managed to clench his muscles, before the whip returned. Time and again, his body flinched under the assault, the ropes digging painfully into his wrists and fire swarming over his back as he was lashed over and over. The whip descended once more and John could no longer stifle the choked cry that escaped his clenched teeth.

Then... it stopped, the fire of each lash fading to a throbbing smolder. Sweat poured off his face, only made worse by the stifling canvas back covering his head. John's deep, fast breaths were ragged.

"You will learn that resistance only brings you pain. What world are you from?"

Through the haze of pain, John found his wits. With cold clarity, he strengthened his resolve. Information or no, there were certain things he couldn't... wouldn't tell this bastard. "No," he whispered, tensing as the interrogator's heavy sigh reached him.

"I see."

John's head snapped back as the impact of a heavy stick replaced the stinging blows from before and threw his body forward against the restraints. The pain was just as intense, but different. Heavy, crushing agony ripped through his body twice more, before it stopped. He grunted quietly and drew in a haggard breath, struggling to hold onto consciousness.

"For your sake, I hope you are not one of those who cannot let go of their resistance," the interrogator said in a low voice. "Take him to his cell," he ordered.

Through the haze of pain, John felt himself lowered to the ground, but as his feet were freed of bindings, his knees buckled; his whole body weak from the beating. Two strong sets of hands roughly grabbed the undersides of his arms as consciousness fled him.

---------------

It was light that he first noticed, the warm caress of a direct beam of sun on his face chasing away the darkness. Gradually, he became aware of the cold stone floor beneath his body, chilling his left side. The air was cool on his face as he realized his captors had removed the bag from his head. Slowly, he opened his eyes, swallowing hard against a wave of nausea. Drawing in a careful breath John looked around. His prison cell was dark and musty, the only light coming from a high, bar covered window. Nausea swarmed through him again and John closed his eyes against it. His thoughts drifted to his team. _Are they safe?_ Deep inside, he clung to the belief that they were, that his distraction had bough them the time they needed to escape... and that they'd be coming back for him. He searched through his memories, looking for the reassurance he needed.

"_Head for the gate! Now!" Running behind his team, John staggered to a stop and spun, sending a spray of P-90 fire back through the thick underbrush. He dropped to the ground, taking cover behind a small stump as bullets scattered dirt in front of him. John rolled and peeked out around the other side of the stump and squeezed off several more shots. Suddenly, a red beam arched over his head and slammed into a nearby tree. Ronon's voice followed on its heels._

"_Sheppard! Move!"_

_Another beam sailed past him and John pushed himself to his feet before breaking into a dead run as Ronon provided cover fire for him. Breathing heavily, he ducked unceremoniously behind a tree bumping into Ronon in the process. He took a deep breath. "Thanks. Teyla? McKay?"_

"_Should be to the gate by now," Ronon fired two more shots at their unseen pursuers. _

_John's hand instinctively cupped his radio headset as Teyla's voice crackled in his ear. _

"_Colonel, we are cut off from the gate!" _

"_Damn it!" he tapped his call button. "Stay put, Teyla. We're on our way to you." John glanced at Ronon before the both of them took off at a fast run towards the gate. It wasn't long until they caught up with Teyla and McKay. Kneeling next to her, John's eyes scanned the rustling underbrush surrounding a small clearing that housed the Stargate. His mind raced for a moment, before he pursed his lips and decided on a course of action. Reaching into his tac vest, John pulled out a fresh clip for his P-90. "I'll draw their fire. As soon as the way is clear, you three get your asses through the gate. I'll double back and follow." With a practiced hand, John loaded the fresh clip into his P-90._

"_Colonel..." Teyla started._

_"You can't be serious!" McKay protested._

_"I'm going with you." Ronon stated unequivocally. _

_Under les dangerous conditions, John might have found the simultaneous protests funny, but this was no time for argument. "That's enough!" he snapped, ending all their protests. "Get through the gate. That's an order." He lifted himself into a low crouch and paused before looking back at each of them. "I won't be far behind," he reassured, his voice tempered. _

"_You better not be," Ronon grumbled..._

It'd worked... at least John thought it did. He remembered hearing the Stargate engage as he led their pursuers on a fast chase through the woods. Then he was surrounded. Something hit him in the back of the head, and that was all he remembered.

_How could a simple "boots on the ground, standard recon" go so wrong so fast?_ John stifled his frustration. The MALP had shown nothing of interest. All they'd planned on doing was a simple recon of the area around the gate. That was it. By the time life signs showed on McKay's Life Signs Detector, it'd been too late, the trap had been sprung.

Carefully, John opened his eyes, encouraged slightly as his stomach settled. He slowly pushed himself to his elbow, wincing as his stiff and sore back. He twisted to a sitting position and gasped as sharp pain from his ribs shot through him. He froze, leaning on his straightened arm and shallowly breathing through the pain. _Broken… _ "Damn," he muttered. After a minute, he slowly got to his knees and carefully pushed himself to his feet. His legs were shaky and he instinctively wrapped one arm protectively over them as he looked around. Three sides and the ceiling of his cell were stone, as if where he stood had been cut out of the side of a cliff, or some sort of cave. He walked towards the cell door, his steps lethargic.

Instead of bars, a solid, metal wall greeted his gaze. The door was heavily armed with no exposed joints or hinges. All in all, his prison more resembled solitary confinement than a jail cell. Running his hand over the rough metal wall, John shook his head in frustration. Forcing himself to think, he followed the wall, his fingers trailing over the metal surface until he reached where metal met stone. He shook his head as he carefully scanned the junction. It was infallible, with no signs of weakness. John stepped back and turned away. Slowly, he limped across the cell before gently easing himself to the ground and leaning back against one of the cool, stone walls. He winced slightly as the fresh wounds on his bare back stung from the pressure, but after a moment, the pain passed, and the cool stone soothed them. He suppressed a chilled shudder and wondered how long and how cold the nights on this planet were. Letting his head fall back against the stone, John tried to rest. "Hurry up, guys," he muttered quietly.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks for the great reviews! I'm so glad you all enjoyed chapter 1. :D _

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He moved silently through the trees. They were still here…somewhere. He knew it… he could feel it. Not just because of the one who'd been working on the gate that he'd doubled back on and silently killed, but because he just _knew._

Carefully, he parted a couple branches with his hand and stared long at a small clearing that greeted his gaze. His eyes… the eyes of both a hunter and a quarry slowly scanned the underbrush. It was a long time before he moved, but when he did, he did so with confidence. It wasn't a trap, he was sure of that.

Stopping in the center of the clearing he knelt, his hand passing lightly over a faint imprint in the soft forest floor. He looked up and slowly stood before walking across the clearing. A deep set of boot treads, their stance wide apart caught his glance. Nodding, he walked in a circle, his eyes finding evenly dispersed tracks, all circling where someone had laid. Walking back to the center indentation he again knelt. His hands brushed over the short grass nearby before encountering something small, round and hard. He picked it up, his gaze narrowing knowingly and expertly at the shell casing. He dropped it, before wiping the back of his hand across his nose and sighing. There was no blood, no indication that whoever had laid there was shot and he had to believe in that.

Once again, he stood and walked around the clearing, his eyes scrutinizing every bush, every track until he found what he was looking for. The small path, indented with the deep grooves made only by someone being drug, was poorly hidden.

The smoldering fire in his dark eyes returned as he cautiously followed the path deeper into the forest.

---------------------------------

Elizabeth Weir started intently at the gate as Lorne and a team of heavily armed Marines gathered around her. She glanced at the worried faces of Rodney and Teyla.

"He was right behind us," Rodney repeated for what must've been the tenth time since they'd come staggering through the gate thirty minutes before, shouting about an ambush.

"I know, Rodney." Elizabeth had learned after the second round of this conversation, that Rodney not only meant Sheppard, but Ronon as well. "We'll find them."

"Stubborn Neanderthal," Rodney muttered.

A moment of dark humor swept through Elizabeth. "Which one?"

"Both!" Rodney snapped. He sighed. "But, Ronon should've said something. We would've stayed with him."

"We did not know what his plans were until we were through the Stargate, Rodney," Teyla placated quietly. "And this way we can return with reinforcements."

"Sheppard's going to be pissed at him for staying behind," Rodney grumbled. "If they even have a chance to have that argument."

Elizabeth filled her narrowed expression with as much confidence as she could find. "They will." She waved up at the gate technician and turned her gaze back to the gate as the chevrons began lighting in sequence. But, as the sequence came around to the final chevron, the gate whined and went dark.

"What the hell?" Rodney turned and stared accusingly at the command deck. "What's the problem up there?" He shouted.

Abruptly, the technician appeared at the railing. "The gate won't lock, Dr. McKay."

"Oh for the love of…" Rodney turned and stalked towards the stairs. "Can't you people do anything right?"

Elizabeth shot a worried glance at Teyla then Lorne before following Rodney to the control deck. She arrived just in time to see Rodney push the technician away from the DHD.

"Move!" Rodney immediately began inputting the gate address. He straightened as once again the gate deactivated before establishing a wormhole. "It won't lock."

"Thought that's what I said," the technician grumbled, earning himself an icy stare from Rodney.

"How is that possible?" Elizabeth stepped up next to him.

"I don't know. Unless…" Rodney's expression fell as he paled.

Elizabeth stared at him, a cold dread cramping her gut. "Unless what?" she asked quietly.

Rodney slowly looked at her. "Unless they disabled the gate from the other side."

Elizabeth closed her eyes and turned her head away from him as she struggled to control her emotions. "Whoever they are they didn't want us coming back." She opened her eyes and looked at a technician. "Signal the Daedalus. I know they're preparing to leave for Earth, but apprise Colonel Caldwell of the situation and ask him to delay their departure and beam down here. We have to find a way to get to that planet."

The technician nodded once to her before turning away and talking rapidly in his radio.

Elizabeth looked at Lorne. "Have your men stand down for now, Major. I want you to join us once Colonel Caldwell arrives." She turned back to Rodney. "Is there any way to establish a lock to that Stargate?"

"No." Rodney shook his head. "If it's disabled on their end then there's nothing I can do."

Elizabeth nodded grimly. "Conference room, ten minutes."

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"Do we have any idea who ambushed Colonel Sheppard's team?" Colonel Caldwell walked confidently into the conference room, made a beeline for the nearest chair and sat down.

Elizabeth glanced at Teyla and Rodney, both of whom shook their heads.

"We never saw them clearly," Teyla answered quietly.

"Do we know for sure that Sheppard was captured?" Caldwell asked.

"No," Teyla sighed and shook her head.

"So, we don't even know if he's alive," Caldwell leaned forward and folded his hands on the table.

"No, sir, not for sure," Lorne admitted.

"The man has the constitution of a vending machine, as annoying as it is." He looked around at several puzzled expressions. "Vending machines?" Rodney prompted, "You know, kick them, knock them over, throw them out the window and they survive..." he rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. "Never mind." Rodney's voice was snippy but confident, "he's alive."

"And Ronon?" Caldwell's expression was neutral as his eyes passed over each of them.

"He's even worse than Sheppard," Rodney muttered.

Elizabeth fought a small smile at Rodney's snide comments. She'd learned long ago that he often used them to hide the fact that he was worried from anyone who might suspect that he cared... which he did, more than even he realized. Her smile faded as she locked gazes with Caldwell. "We don't know anything for certain, Colonel, but if there's a chance…"

"I never said I wouldn't go after them, Doctor," Caldwell interrupted. "I'm only trying to ascertain what, exactly, the situation is."

Elizabeth pursed her lips and nodded. "The situation is that we don't really know anything for sure, except that two of our people are stranded on a hostile planet with no back up and the gate has been disabled on their side." She paused before going on. "And that we need your help."

A faint but meaningful smile played at Caldwell's mouth. "You'll have it." As quickly as it appeared the smile faded back to a neutral expression.

Elizabeth nodded slightly in gratitude at him before Rodney broke in.

"I sent the coordinates for M44-296 to Hermiod before you beamed down," Rodney said.

"Thank you, Doctor," Caldwell tapped his headset. "Hermiod, what's the ETA to M44-296?"

"At recommended output for the hyperdrive, we can reach the planet in thirty-six hours," Hermiod replied, his voice typically emotionless.

Caldwell sighed and stared for a long moment at Elizabeth before responding. "Make that number smaller please." His voice was cordial, but there was no hint of request in his tone.

"Pushing the hyperdrive beyond recommended output can cause irreparable damage," Hermiod responded.

"I'm well aware of that, thank you," Caldwell answered, "we have people in trouble on that planet. I want some time shaved off that estimate. Caldwell out."

"Don't strand yourself halfway across the galaxy, Colonel," Elizabeth couldn't keep the touch of dark humor from her voice.

Caldwell's chuckle was almost lost on her as he shook his head. "Hermiod's estimates are always conservative. He'll give me a better number by the time I get back up there." He pushed away from the table and stood. "We should be ready to depart within the hour. I'll keep you informed of our status."

Elizabeth smiled slightly. "Thank you, Colonel."

Caldwell nodded back. "Glad to help." Without another word, he turned and left the conference room.

Elizabeth looked at Lorne. "Beam up to the Daedalus with your team as soon as you're ready." She glanced at Teyla and Rodney as Lorne quickly left the conference room. An unspoken word passed between them and she nodded her approval. "Go," she said quietly. She remained seated as they exited, leaving her alone in the conference room. Leaning back in her chair, Elizabeth shook her head, fighting to keep the worry deep within her, and to keep a confident front. Before long, she silently stood and returned to the command deck.

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John shifted his weight, wincing at the sharp pain from his ribs that accompanied any move he made. He took a shallow breath, forcing himself to relax. Without a watch, he could only estimate how long they'd left him alone, but he'd managed to doze some so he assumed it had been a couple hours. A headache plagued him, but John forced himself to concentrate. Somehow, he had to escape, get to the gate, or at least find the team he was sure Elizabeth would be sending for him. He shifted and winced again. His frustration flared. This was crazy. He needed a gun or some kind of weapon because he sure as hell wasn't in any condition to be fighting hand to hand for any length of time.

Footsteps in the corridor derailed his thoughts and John slowly and stiffly forced himself to his feet. One arm held protectively around his side, he looked up as the door to his cell slowly opened and two roughly dressed men entered. One pointed a Genii styled gun at him while the other walked slowly towards him.

"Turn around," the man ordered.

John turned his mind racing. _One for a human shield… take his gun…_ He tensed as he felt the man walked up right behind him. Without warning, he threw his elbow back, catching the man in the jaw. John grabbed for him, but he was an instant too late as white-hot pain lanced through his thigh and he felt himself spun by the force of the gunshot.

It was over before he could react as the guard he hit punched him in the gut and John saw stars as his breath was stolen from him. He was roughly thrown to the ground and his hands were bound tightly before the canvas bag was again secured over his head. He was hauled to his feet and only just regaining the ability to breathe, John was helpless as he staggered from the cell half drug, half carried by his captors.

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Rodney sidestepped a Daedalus technician, shooting them an annoyed glare, before walking onto the bridge. He headed directly for Caldwell's position. "Are we ready to go yet?" Impatience laced his acerbic tone and he really wasn't in the mood to temper it.

Seated in his command chair, Caldwell looked up at Rodney, his expression neutral. "I was just about to inform Atlantis we were ready to depart, unless you have something else to add, Dr. McKay?"

"Only that Hermiod's latest ETA is twenty-nine hours," Rodney added, "thanks to my brilliant calculations..."

"Better than thirty-six," Caldwell interrupted. "Webs, open a channel to Atlantis."

"Channel open, sir," Webs answered after a brief pause.

"Dr. Weir, this is Caldwell."

"Go ahead, Colonel," Weir responded.

"We're ready to depart. Latest ETA to M44-296 is twenty-nine hours. We'll send a subspace message when we arrive."

"Acknowledged."

Even over the radio, Rodney could hear the barely contained tension in Weir's voice.

"Good luck," she continued, "and God speed, Colonel."

Caldwell nodded slightly to himself. "Thank you, Doctor. Caldwell out." He looked down at the navigator. "Webs, set a course for M44-296."

"Course already plotted, sir," Webs answered.

"Very good, Major," Caldwell smiled slightly. "Bring the hyperdrive online. Let's get moving."

"Yes, sir. Breaking orbit."

Rodney slowly walked towards the large view widow at the front of the bridge. He watched the stars pass by as the Daedalus turned away from the planet and towards open space. As the hyperspace window opened and the black of real space was replaced by the soft blues of subspace, Rodney's thoughts dwelled on Sheppard and Ronon. "Damn heroics..." he muttered.

"Rodney?"

He glanced at Teyla's questioning look and in the split second his guard was down, he realized she saw every bit of worry and concern he'd worked so hard to cover.

"They will be fine, Rodney," Teyla reassured with a small, warm smile.

Uncomfortable and unsure what to say, Rodney fidgeted before retreating behind his mask of impartiality. "Of course they will." He turned and headed for the exit.

"Dr. McKay?" Caldwell's gaze followed him.

Rodney stopped and shot the Colonel a decidedly annoyed stare. "Twenty-nine hours is ridiculous!" he snapped.

"McKay, Hermiod does know what he's doing..." Caldwell started but Rodney would have nothing to do with it.

"Really? Is that why his thirty-six hour estimate magically became twenty-nine when I arrived?" Rodney turned away and stalked purposefully for the exit. "I'm going down there." He swiftly strode down the corridor, putting distance between himself and any reply Caldwell may have had.

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Lucidity was just returning to John as he was unceremoniously dropped to his knees. He cocked his head slightly, listening as the familiar squeak of a pulley reached his ears. He bit back his fear and buried it under steel hard control as one of the guards grabbed his bound hands an pulled them over his head. He bit back a grunt of pain as his broken ribs protested loudly, before he was once again lifted off the floor.

This time, his captors didn't give him a chance to retaliate for as soon as his feet leave the ground, two men roughly grabbed his ankles and bound them together before securing his feet to the wall somewhere behind him. His head dropped slightly as he tried to breathe evenly through the hot musty bag that stifled him. He took a moment to take stock of his condition. He could feel blood trickling down his leg from the bullet wound, his head pounded from concussion and his ribs sent spikes of pain through him with every shallow breath he took. _You're a hell of a piece of work, Sheppard..._ Heavy footsteps approaching forced him to stretch his senses outward as he tried to compensate for his useless eyes.

"Welcome back, John Sheppard." Heavy Footsteps' voice was eerily calm.

"Can't say I'm happy to be here," John quipped darkly. He tensed as his interrogator poked roughly at the wound in his thigh.

"Who did this?" Heavy Footsteps snapped.

"He resisted and tried to escape," one of the guards to John's left answered.

Still blind, John's gaze nonetheless narrowed at the waver in the man's voice.

"Idiot!" Heavy Footsteps shouted.

John's whole body jumped, straining in instinctive recoil against his bindings as the thunderous explosion of a gunshot assaulted his ears. Through it, he heard the distinctive sound of a body falling hard to the wood floor beneath him.

"I do not suffer idiots." Heavy Footsteps muttered. "Bind the wound. He serves no purpose if he bleeds to death before we have the chance to learn anything."

John grunted as rough hands tightly bound some sort of bandage around his thigh. "Didn't know... you cared," he hissed, fighting the throbbing pain.

"You are of no use to me dead," Heavy Footsteps answered flatly. "Shall we continue, John Sheppard?"

"Do I have a choice?" John shot back through clenched teeth.

"You always do," Heavy Footsteps answered, "this is all about choices. You may choose to answer me, or choose pain, but it is your choice alone."

"That really doesn't make me feel better," John muttered. He bit down on his lip and steeled himself for the beating he knew was coming. _My choice hell! Torture or giving up Atlantis. That's no choice..._

"What planet are you from?" Heavy Footsteps asked.

John's mind raced and the silence he greeted his interrogator's questions with, did nothing to please the man. John couldn't stifle a cry as one of the guards laid into him with a whip, covering the barely scabbed lashes with fresh ones. After a moment, the beating stopped.

"Do you wish to change your mind and tell me?" Heavy Footsteps asked quietly.

John swallowed hard. "Athos," he whispered throwing out as bait the name of Teyla's former home world, destroyed by the Wraith. "I can even give you the address if you give me something to write on." He instinctively recoiled as he heard his interrogator walk up close to him.

"You lie. Athos was destroyed by the Wraith."

John strained against his bindings as he tried to get closer to the interrogator. "Don't you think I know that?" He held tight to his ruse, and pulled on as much confidence as he could muster. "Our people were scattered all over the galaxy by those bastards!" He heard Heavy Footsteps turn and walk away.

"Perhaps, but that was over a year ago. I am not inclined to believe you, John Sheppard, for the Athosians were simple farmers and hunters. Your weapons far exceed their technology. Yet, it is possible that you obtained those weapons through other means. We shall get to that part later. Let me rephrase my question. What planet did you come here from?"

John pursed his lips. This guy was shrewd... either that or he had top notch intelligence. John decided it was probably both. His mind latched onto a gate address. "M1K-439." He answered quietly.

"I am not familiar with that designation," Heavy Footsteps answered.

"What about Planet Waterfalls?" John shot back. "We didn't name it. It's not our home, just where we live. We're still Athosians, even if Athos was destroyed."

"Where did you get the advanced weapons that you carry?" Heavy Footsteps pushed for more information.

_Keep it simple... keep it simple... _"We found them."

"Where?"

"On the waterfall planet," John answered, keeping his voice resigned. He decided as long as he sounded like Heavy Footsteps had broken him, he might be able to get out of this interrogation alive and if he could do that...

"You lie."

Heavy Footstep's answer held a note of finality that sent a cold cramp to John's gut. "No, I don't..."

"You do. We are done talking for now."

John bit into his lower lip as the whip returned. As the pain swarmed over his back, he turned his mind inward, surrendering to a primal instinct to survive. Time was lost to him, as the pain washed over him, its agony unrelenting. He was barely aware of it ending but was jerked back to reality as his body was dumped roughly on the floor. A different sort of agony, this time from his ribs ripped through him an instant before the darkness of unconsciousness took him.


	3. Chapter 3

_HUGE thanks to Lauriel for giving me a second set of eyes on this chapter:D_

_Thanks for the reviews! Glad you all are enjoying the story!_

He smiled, the hunter within him replacing the instincts of the hunted. They knew nothing of his presence and that would be their fatal weakness. The small building he stared at was flush with a steep cliff, as if served as an entrance to a cave of some sort. Two guards paced casually in front of it looking like they walked the route out of habit, with no sense of danger.

His smile turned predatory as he watched them. He had no sympathies, no remorse for the enemy. Remorse only got you killed. The moment they fired upon him, attacked his team, took his friend, they became the enemy. His hand settled firmly on the gun at his side. His gaze narrowed. The noise would bring others and right now, he needed secrecy. His hand left the gun and ventured behind his back. Slowly, his fingers wrapped around the handle of a knife, as he silently slid through the bushes and closer to the unsuspecting guards.

He crouched, waiting, his breathing even as the first guard turned and walked closer to him. _Closer… closer…_ He leapt from the bushes and struck, his blow instantaneously lethal. He spun and threw another knife, taking the second guard in the throat, before the first one even hit the ground. The fatal wound silenced any warning shout, as the second guard collapsed.

Tense, the hunter's eyes darted around, looking for another enemy, but when he found none, he took a moment to relax. His respite was short lived. He quickly retrieved both knives, wiping them across his pant leg before he re-sheathed both. Grabbing one arm of each guard, he quickly dragged them into the bushes before silently slipping through the doorway and into the stronghold.

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The chilling, cold sensation that crept through John's body left him shivering. He peeled his eyes open, instantly regretting the action as the bright sun from the small window assaulted him. He groaned and his regret redoubled as his ribs protested loudly. Cynicism briefly passed through him. _Maybe if I just stop breathing, they won't hurt…_ He silently cursed the cold stone floor he lay on, before forcing himself up to his elbows. John tried to pull his legs under himself, but stiff and painful from the bullet wound, his left leg refused to function. He sighed and lowered himself back to the floor, before rolling over on his back. _Jesus, Sheppard,_ he cussed himself as yet another pain joined the chorus, this time from his abused back. He slowly sat up and using his functioning right leg and hands, he scooted to the nearest wall. Leaning back against it, John forced himself to relax as he slowed his breathing. His mind wandered. _Who are these guys? _He'd only ever seen the two guards that always came to his cell and from that the one thing John knew for sure was that they were human. He'd met his fair share of bad guys in his time, people that would stop but nothing to get what they want, but he'd always kind of thought things would be different in Pegasus. One side of his mouth turned up slightly in a cynical smile. In Pegasus, he'd met his fair share of good people, but he'd also met plenty of bad ones. So, he really didn't know why he'd assume human nature would be any different, just because he was in a different galaxy. For a moment, he berated himself for being short-sighted; something that could've gotten himself and his team killed. He let his anger go, focusing on the here and now and figuring out who these people were and how, exactly, he was going to get out of this alive.

John's thoughts returned to his current captors. _Could they be Genii? _His mind dwelled on that thought for a moment before he dismissed it. He had no proof they weren't, but his gut said no. He'd encountered ruthless Genii before; men like Kolya, but this just didn't feel the same. John sighed in frustration, wincing as his broken ribs complained.

The scuffle of feet outside his cell broke John's thoughts. He closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself for what he knew was coming. Slowly, and leaning heavily against the wall, he managed to push himself to his feet. Shifting all his weight to his good leg and balancing with one hand on the wall, John mustered as much strength and confidence he could find and focused it all on the guards that entered his cell.

His eyes widened slightly as the first guard approached him. Easily four inches taller and at least fifty pounds of stout muscle heavier, the guard that approached John had a cocky look on his face. John held onto his confident look as the guard walked closer, stopping only a few inches from him. Before John could say a word, the big guard grabbed him, spun him around and slammed him into the cave wall. John couldn't stop the grunt that escaped him, as his cheek was pressed hard against cold stone. "Hi… to you too…" he coughed and pulled in a wheezing breath, trying to shut out the lances of pain his ribs were sending him. The big guard pulled his arms roughly behind him and with only one good leg, John was powerless against him.

John looked sideways as the other guard, one he recognized, walked calmly forward, canvas bag in his hands. "Brought in… some brawn… huh?" he managed, his tone darkly cynical.

The guard's gaze narrowed a moment, before he smiled, his expression leering.

The last thing John saw was the canvas bag coming at him.

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Another mark was added to the hunter's mental tally as he let the dead guard slide silently to the ground. He knew he couldn't go on killing guards for long, before someone would notice, but he took great satisfaction in eliminating as many of the enemy he could as he searched for his friend. For a moment, he stared down at the dead man. The small insignia on the guard's tunic left no doubt in his mind as to who they were, although he wished he was wrong. He'd long believed them to all be dead and for a moment, he cursed himself for assuming the rumors to be true.

Noiseless, he moved from the shadows and further into the complex. His path took him deeper into the cave network, the narrow corridor sloping slightly downhill the further he went. The lighting grew dimmer and he compensated for it by stretching out with his other senses. His hearing sharpened, as did his instincts and his pace slowed.

Torches were strategically placed, offering small spheres of light, which beat back the darkness at regular intervals. He hated them, for each time he was forced to move blindly past the brightness, crucial… vulnerable seconds would pass before his eyes adjusted. He relied heavily on his instincts at those times, trusting them to warn him of any danger. Several joining corridors came and went, and with every juncture he was forced to choose one path over another without knowing which way was the right way. The hunter beat back his frustration. The place was a maze and he knew he had scant time to find his friend before the trail of bodies he'd left behind were discovered. Staring hard at two tunnels before him he cursed under his breath. Choosing one, he crept down the dark corridor.

---------------------

Pain forced a hoarse cry from John as the big guard shoved him roughly and his bad leg gave out. He landed hard on the floor, his grunt punctuated by a loud gasp. He clutched his left arm hard against his side and fought to control the wave of nausea that swept over him. His arm was roughly pulled away from his side and he was dimly aware of the stinging pain the rough rope caused on his raw wrists. Again, the loud squeaking of a pulley found his ears and his adrenaline spiked in an instinctive response to its sound. His feet left the ground as he fought to control his fear and steel himself for what was to come. Predictably, he heard Heavy Footsteps walk up towards him.

"You do not look well, my friend. Perhaps you should tell me the truth about you so we may avoid any more… unpleasant situations?"

John clenched his jaw and forced an even tone to his voice. "I told you, I'm Athosian. Whether you believe me or not is your choice."

"I see."

Heavy Footsteps walked closer to him and John instinctively pulled back as he could all but feel the man only inches from him.

"Just so we are absolutely clear, John Sheppard," Heavy Footsteps voice was quiet but confident, "I have no doubt that you are lying to me."

Even through the bag, John could feel the heat of the man's breath and listened, as it grew rapid. Realization swept over him, spawning a cold dread deep in his gut. "You're not interested in the truth, are you?"

"Oh yes," Heavy Footsteps responded, his voice slightly eager, "the truth is important. I just do not have reservations about doing whatever is necessary to learn it."

John swallowed hard. "Great," he muttered. He unconsciously flinched as Heavy Footsteps pushed him roughly.

"I must admit, there is a certain… satisfaction in breaking ones such as you."

"Who said I was going to break?" John replied, carefully keeping his voice even and confident.

"Even better," Heavy Footsteps answered. "Now, again. Who are you?" he asked quietly.

"John Sheppard. Athosian," John immediately replied. He closed his eyes and retreated deep inside himself, preparing to shut out the pain he knew was coming. Expectation, colored with dread swept over him, but the agony didn't come. John bit back a bitter retort, choosing silence instead of baiting his captors. After a long, still moment, Heavy Footsteps spoke.

"You disappoint me, John Sheppard."

"Can't say I'm sorry about that," John replied, allowing himself a little satisfaction by replying. His victory was small, but he found strength in it. His guard slipped and in that moment, Heavy Footsteps delivered retribution as if he'd read John's mind. A hoarse, loud scream escaped John before he had a chance to try and stop it as Heavy Footsteps slammed his fist into his wounded leg.

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He stopped, spinning around in a circle as an agonized scream echoed around him. The voice was familiar and the hunter knew, without a doubt, that it belonged to his friend. He drew in a deep breath, the smoldering hate in his eyes erupting into flaming rage. In the recesses of his mind, he remembered his combat instructors words warning him of the dangers of rage, but in seven years on his own, he'd focused his fury into a driving strength, a fire that helped him survive… and could not be smothered.

Another cry found his ears. His head whipped around, his dark eyes focusing on one tunnel. A low and primal growl escaped him as he broke into a fast run.

His long, powerful legs carried him swiftly down the corridor, but as he approached a corner, only his instincts saved him from being discovered. Stumbling to a stop he pressed himself against the wall for a moment before carefully peering around the corner. His gaze narrowed as he recognized the limp body being dragged by two guards to be that of his friend. Looking around, he neither saw, nor felt anyone else close by and after a moment he rolled his body along the wall and around the corner. With a stealth that belied his size, he slowly followed the path the guards had taken. Carefully, in the back of his mind, he'd tracked his movements, mentally marking every turn he'd made. He was confident he could quickly find his way out once he had rescued his friend.

Backing into a small recess in the cave wall, he disappeared into the shadows with practiced ease. He unsheathed his knife, still darkened with the blood of his enemies and forced himself to wait as the guards roughly threw his friend into a cell and closed the door.

Habitually, he evaluated them. One was large, nearly as big as he and showed a formidable strength in his bearing. The hunter decided he would be the first one to die. The other was smaller, lighter and he couldn't keep a dark smile from his face. Death would come swiftly to that one.

As they passed, he stepped from the shadows and grabbed the large one from behind. He drew his knife across the guard's throat and let him fall. Turning, the hunter took one look at the scared expression on the other guard's face, before slamming his knife into the guard's chest, piercing his heart.

His rage flared for a moment before receding, the vindication of killing these two guards tempering it. Reaching down, he callously pulled the keys from the small guard's hands and jogged to the locked door. Unlocking it, he pulled it open. His friend… the one man that trusted him and gave him a new home, no questions asked, rolled over and stared unbelieving at him. "Hey."

"Ronon?"

He smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks for the reviews and the support! I'm glad you're enjoying the story! It keeps growing when I'm not looking. LOL_

A dozen thoughts raced through John's mind, but only one lent itself to his voice. "What the hell… are you doing here?" He pushed himself up on one elbow.

"Saving you," Ronon replied casually.

Mustering as much strength as he could, John hardened his gaze. "I ordered you back through the gate." His eyes narrowed at the distinct air of challenge that his big team member radiated.

Still, Ronon's expression never lost its touch of amusement as he grunted quietly. "Yep, you did."

John stared firmly at him for another moment before rolling his eyes and giving in to a cynical half smile. "You're payback for all the CO's I ran roughshod over..." he muttered.

"Sheppard." Ronon's voice was slightly urgent as he extended a hand to John. "We need to get out of here."

John sighed. "I'd love to oblige, but my leg has other ideas." He sat still, taking shallow breaths, as Ronon knelt next to him. He felt the heat of Ronon's gaze as the big man's eyes scanned him.

Ronon craned his head and looked at John's back for a moment, before he firmly poked the bullet wound. John hissed in pain and Ronon settled back on his heel. "You okay?"

John stared evenly back, seeing so much more in Ronon's smoldering expression than concern. Anger and frustration showed in spades, along with a touch of guilt. He sighed shallowly and nodded. "Yeah. Nothing a little Mother Hen treatment by Carson won't fix... well that and getting this damn bullet out of my leg." He smiled slightly at Ronon's concerned expression. "Give me a hand up and let's get the hell out of here, okay?" He threw his arm over Ronon's shoulders as the Satedan knelt and wrapped his arm around his waist, grabbing his belt. John tuned out the painful spikes from his ribs and leaning heavily on Ronon, managed to stand. Only able to put weight on his good leg, he felt practically carried by Ronon as they left the cell. "Drop me if we meet up with anyone. You can't fight like this and I don't need you getting hurt..." John managed through clenched teeth.

Ronon glanced at him, dark amusement briefly tempering the rage in his eyes. "Already thought of that."

"Ah," John's brows quirked. "Right." He looked down at the two dead guards, blanching slightly at the pools of blood that gathered around them. _Glad he's on my side..._ "Hold up a second." Still holding firmly to Ronon's arm, John leaned over and snagged a handgun from the smaller guard's belt holster. He freed his second hand briefly and checked the load before nodding once. "Let's go."

John tried his best to walk and take as much of his weight as he could, but after a few steps, he realized that his left leg just wasn't going to cooperate. He felt Ronon's grip around his waist tighten as the big man all but carried him. Ronon's necessary hold around his waist constricted his broken ribs and it took everything he had just to breathe and keep from falling over as they continued towards the surface. "Sorry..."

"It's okay. Leg?" Ronon's replies were distracted as he constantly watched for guards.

"Yeah," John managed, " 'n ribs..."

Ronon stopped loosened his grip and looked down at John. "Sorry."

John felt the sweat trickle down his face and he swallowed against pain-induced nausea. "Don't be... no choice."

Ronon nodded silently before once more tightening his grip again. "It isn't far." He confidently turned left down a dark corridor.

John blinked hard and forced himself to concentrate if only to stave off unconsciousness. "You... sure?"

"Yeah," Ronon glanced at him. "Don't you know?"

"Was... unconscious," John smiled slightly, "so, no. I don't." his breath hitched as he felt Ronon's body tense, an instant before the big Satedan froze in his tracks. John's grip tightened on his gun as he looked around and listened. He forced himself to think clearly, pushing out the pain through sheer willpower and an unwavering survival instinct. In spite of everything else, if they were going to live he had to think straight; something John was all too familiar with...

"_Shep, take the gun."_

_The warm sand soothed his aching muscles and John felt like he was floating as waves of heat crept through his body._

"_Shep! C'mon man! I'm not hauling your worthless ass back by myself!"_

_Barely above a whisper, the voice still ignited his will to survive. John opened his eyes. With one hand he held the blood soaked bandage to his side and with the other, he took the proffered nine mil from Lindner. "That's... insubordination... Captain..."_

"_Bite me, Shep. You can court martial me later... if we manage to get out of this alive **Major**." Lindner's expression was a cross between amusement and challenge._

_John forced himself to focus. "There is... that..."_

Ronon lifted off John's arm and steadied him against the wall. "Stay here."

"Ronon, wait," John's hasty words stopped him. He stared hard at Ronon's questioning expression. "Give me a knife." He held his expression strong as Ronon's eyes narrowed in doubt. "Look, I'd rather be through the Stargate before they even realize I'm gone. If either one of us fires a gun, it'd sort of ruin that plan." He glanced pointedly down at his leg. "Somehow, I don't think I'm exactly up to unarmed hand to hand fighting." Still leaning one arm on the wall, John pulled himself up as straight as he could and extended a slightly shaking hand. Adrenaline coursed through him, sharpening his wits, and, he hoped, his reflexes.

Ronon's dubious expression was replaced with a vaguely approving one as he pulled a stout knife out of his left vambrace. "Here."

John shook his head slightly in amusement at the walking arsenal that was his teammate. He took the knife and nodded once. He pressed his back against the wall as Ronon silently disappeared around the corner. John's grip tightened around the knife and he held it close. Blinking hard, he clung to his strength and concentration.

Quiet scuffling sounds and a muted cry told him that Ronon had found his prey. John tensed as rapid footsteps came towards his position. A guard suddenly appeared around the corner and staggered to a stop, his eyes widening as he spotted John.

"You!"

John lunged at him, but his injured leg was slow, dead, weight and the guard easily danced out of his path, simultaneously pulling a knife of his own.

"I can't kill you, but you're going to wish you hadn't escaped," the guard sneered, obviously confident he could best a beat up prisoner.

Pain fled John, replaced with a cold, lethal detachment. The man that stood before ceased to be anything but the enemy... a direct threat to be dealt with only one way. He knew the guard wouldn't kill him, but his life, his health... his freedom were in danger. His gaze narrowed, the adrenaline flowing through him strengthening his harsh detachment. He stood his ground, his grip on the knife never wavering as the guard rushed him. He was backed into a corner, figuratively and literally. He'd been there before and survived. Confidence strengthened him. This time would be no different.

John saw the blow coming and knew what he had to do, but in spite of all the adrenaline and willpower, his leg still refused to cooperate. He barely ducked under the guard's blow and staggered.

The guard wasted no time and pressed his advantage. John was off balance and dangerously close to losing any sort of defensive abilities. _Unless..._ Gritting his teeth, John threw his weight onto his injured leg. He cried out in pain as his leg predictably folded under the stress. Hitting the ground hard, John mustered all the strength he had, rolled and reached for the guard's leg. Throwing his weight left had been the last thing his opponent had expected him to do. The element of surprise was John's and he took advantage of it. His hand closed around the guard's ankle and he pulled hard, yanking him off his feet.

Before the guard could recover, John threw himself on top of him and using the full weight of his body drove the knife deep into the guard's chest.

Their faces scant inches apart, John breathed hard against his painful ribs, his gaze locking with the guard's. Warm blood instantly flowed over his hands as he stared coldly, watching the life flee from his opponent's eyes.

After a moment, he rolled off the guard and onto his back. His heaving breaths clashed with his broken ribs and left him alternating between ragged gasps of air and grunts of pain. His chest and leg were both on fire and nausea assaulted him as darkness started creeping into his vision. He swallowed hard, forcing his stomach to settle and shook his head, fighting back the darkness as he slowly sat up. Reaching over, he pulled the knife from the dead guard's chest. It was warm and slippery with blood, but John still held tight to it as he scooted himself to the wall and slowly inched to his feet. He let his head fall back against the stone as he rested the majority of his weight against the wall. Closing his eyes, he took a moment to try and get himself together. He didn't have long as footsteps grabbed his attention. His eyes snapped open, his grip unconsciously tightening on the knife as the footsteps drew closer. John lifted the knife in a defensive position as a figure appeared around the corner. He relaxed instantly. "Ronon," he croaked.

Ronon's eyes darted from John to the dead guard then back. His gaze narrowed at the blood on John's hands. "You okay?"

Cynicism touched John again. "Compared... to what?" He waved weakly with his knife hand. "I'm okay." He stared at the blood on his hands for a moment. "It's... his." He looked up and straight into Ronon's eyes. Something akin to respect colored Ronon's expression and John nodded once as an unspoken understanding passed between them.

"Nice move," Ronon commented quietly.

John's eyes scanned Ronon's body, noting new blood stains. "You hurt?"

Ronon glanced down and shrugged. "Not mine. There were five in the hallway. I took out four." He pointed at the dead guard. "That one got away."

John snorted quietly. "Nobody's perfect. Glad I was here... to cover... your six."

One side of Ronon's mouth turned up briefly. "Yeah." He grabbed John around the waist as he once again put his arm over the big man's shoulders. "Not far."

John hobbled along, doing his best to walk and ignore his pain. "You said that... three hallways... ago..."

Ronon grunted but said nothing as he increased the pace. "Those five will be missed."

John nodded. "I know. We got to get out of here..."

Ronon abruptly stopped, jarring John as he staggered but managed to stay on his feet. "What?"

"This isn't working." Ronon turned his back to John and knelt. "We'll go faster if I carry you."

John hesitated, a protest jumping to his lips, but before he could voice it resignation took over. "Okay." He put his right arm under Ronon's and his left over the Satedan's left shoulder. Clasping his hands together across Ronon's chest, John nodded. "Ready."

Ronon slowly stood, never showing a hint that John's weight was any burden to him. He started off at a quick jog.

John squeezed his eyes shut against the jarring pace. "I'm doing this... under protest..." He felt Ronon chuckle.

"So am I." Ronon took another left hand turn. "We're close."

"Good," John grunted, "it's not... going to take them... long to figure out I'm... gone." He no sooner got the words out of his mouth, than distant shouts echoed through the corridors some distance behind them. "Damn it!"

Ronon cocked his head and nodded slightly before lengthening his stride. "They found the guards."

John's thoughts touched on his interrogator and he suppressed a shudder. _If they catch us now..._ "We have to... get to the... gate..."

Slightly winded, Ronon still responded. "Yes." He took a hard turn to the right and before long stopped at a large, solid door. Wasting no time, Ronon threw it open and ran into the fresh night air. "Won't take them long to get people to the gate." His jog turned into a run as he dodged through the trees.

"I know." John bowed his head, protecting his face from the branches as Ronon continued running. John pursed his lips partially from the swarms of pain that flooded over him, and partially because he sensed the toll his weight was taking on his teammate. He could feel the deep, fast breaths flowing in and out of Ronon as he pushed on. "Ronon... stop. Rest a minute..." he insisted.

Ronon shook his head, his reply curt. "No."

John's grip tightened as the big man stumbled hard, before catching himself and continuing on. "Ronon," John mustered as much strength as he could and poured it all into his voice. "Stop! That's an order!" He winced as Ronon lurched to a stop then slowly eased himself to the ground. "Even you..." John grunted in pain, "need a break," he reached for a nearby small tree and leaned against it.

"Gate's not that far," Ronon managed between gasps.

John nodded and extended his hand. "Good. Help me out. I can walk."

Ronon arched a brow. "Walk?" he wrapped his arm around John's waist.

"Okay, I'll _hobble._" John rolled his eyes. He let Ronon support him as they once again started towards the gate. He felt his strength waning and with every step, he had to force himself to move. So, when Ronon pushed through some trees and they entered a clearing dominated by the Stargate, John couldn't help but smile weakly. "That wasn't so hard," he quipped, earning himself a dark look from Ronon. He grabbed the side of the DHD as Ronon ducked out from under his arm. "Watch the six. I'll dial."

Ronon nodded and drew his gun as he turned around.

John looked down at the DHD and started dialing. "When we get a lock, transmit your IDC."

"Got it," Ronon answered his gaze never leaving the trees behind them.

Completing the dialing sequence, John looked up, anticipating the flush of an establishing wormhole, but instead, the gate whined and then went dark. "What the hell?"

Ronon chanced a glance back. "What happened?"

"Maybe I dialed wrong," John muttered, trying to push away the cold feel of dread that crept into his gut. Watching carefully, he deliberately tapped each chevron of Atlantis' gate address before pushing firmly on the center crystal. He looked up as again the gate went dark. "It won't lock."

"What?" Ronon's reply was curt.

"The gate. It won't lock." John's gaze fell on the prone form of a man just to the left of the gate. He pointed. "Know anything about him?"

Ronon nodded. "Yeah. He was doing something to the gate right before I killed him."

John shook his head, surrendering to the cold ache in his stomach. "He must've disabled it," he muttered. "No wonder backup hasn't arrived. They can't dial in." John's head whipped around at the faint sound of voices coming through the woods. He glanced at Ronon's equally serious expression before looking back down at the DHD. "Where's McKay when you need him?"


	5. Chapter 5

_Thanks again for the reviews! I'm so glad people are enjoying this story. Sorry for the delay in the update, I got whumped myself by the flu:(_

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"It will not work, Dr. McKay."

Rodney ground his teeth. Hermiod's voice was irritatingly calm and factual. "Yes... it will!"

"It will burn out the hyperdrive generator," Hermiod replied.

"Only if we don't control the power flow!" Rodney shot back. "Look, if we would've originally done this your way, we'd still be thirty-nine hours away!"

"Thirty-two."

Rodney glared coldly at the dispassionate orbs that served as the Asgard's eyes. "Fine! The point is, we're down from **thirty two** to twenty hours, thanks to my calculations and now I'm telling you that this will work to get us there even faster!"

"If we do this, we will burn out the hyperdrive and it will take much longer than twenty hours," Hermiod rebuffed.

Rodney felt as if he was banging his head on a wall. How could such a rational race be so irritating? "We won't burn out the hyperdrive!"

"Is there a problem here?"

Rodney took a moment to sigh. _Impeccable and annoying timing. Must be a military trait..._ He turned and fixed his glare on Caldwell. "Not unless you're in a big hurry, in which case then yes! We have a problem!"

"There is no problem, Colonel Caldwell," Hermiod's quiet voice followed on the heels of Rodney's heated one. "I was merely explaining to Dr. McKay that his current theory for increasing the performance of the hyperdrive generator is unsound."

"It is **not** unsound!" Rodney's voice rose in pitch. "It merely requires close monitoring and control on the power flow." He fixed Hermiod with a sarcastic glare. "Apparently, that sort of precise control is beyond your obviously overrated abilities!"

"Dr. McKay," Caldwell cut across any rebuke Hermiod may have had. "The Asgard are pretty smart about hyperdrive technology..."

"Yes, yes, **yes**!" Rodney interrupted. "But, I'm telling you, this **will** work." Rodney stared at the hesitation and uncertainty he could barely make out in Caldwell's otherwise neutral expression. Something akin of desperation took hold of him. "Look, two of my team members are trapped on that planet, with people who the only thing we know about them is that they want to kill us! I'm not going to sit by wait twenty hours until I can help them!" Inwardly, Rodney cursed himself as his voice broke slightly.

"Nineteen point eight hours," Hermiod corrected quietly.

Rodney spun and fixed him with an icy stare. "Whatever!" He slowly turned back and stared at Caldwell's unreadable expression.

After a moment of silence, Caldwell pulled his gaze from Rodney and looked at his Asgard engineer. "Hermiod, is there even a slim chance that Dr. McKay's plan would work?"

Hermiod blinked. "There is a chance, yes, if the power levels are closely monitored..."

Rodney broke in. "That's what..."

"Dr. McKay."

Rodney clamped his mouth shut as Caldwell raised a hand at him. He looked away from the Colonel's penetrating gaze.

"Hermiod?" Caldwell nodded for the Asgard to continue.

"The margin for error is very small, Colonel," Hermiod stated. "If the power levels exceed that small window, even slightly, we will burn out the hyperdrive generator."

Rodney watched Caldwell intently as the Colonel looked away and sighed quietly before meeting eyes with him. Rodney felt scrutinized, but he stared confidently back. "We can do this," he restated.

"If it works," Caldwell leaned on Hermiod's console, "what kind of gain are we looking at?"

Rodney took a step closer. "We'll cut the time in half." His gaze pierced Caldwell's. "We'd be there in ten hours." Rodney had always felt uncomfortable under the hard, neutral gaze the colonel so often sported, although he'd never admit it. But, this time was different. Deep inside, in a place he never told anyone about, he knew Sheppard and Ronon were in trouble. _Yes! Of course they are! They're stranded on a hostile planet! _His rational mind spat at him, but Rodney shook it off. This was more than having a good head for the facts presented to him. This was just... **knowing**. Inwardly he fought sarcasm. _Going by my gut... if Sheppard could see me now... _ Rodney turned away from the thought and held his gaze determined as he sent as much of that determination Caldwell's direction as he could.

After a long moment, Caldwell's gaze turned decisive as he looked at Hermiod. "Execute Dr. McKay's plan."

"Colonel, I do not think this is wise," Hermiod replied.

Caldwell nodded one, curtly. "Your protest is noted. Watch the power levels closely and take the appropriate steps necessary if you see any indication of trouble. Fair enough?"

Hermiod inclined his head slightly. "Fair enough."

Rodney nodded silently as Caldwell once again looked at him.

"Keep me appraised, Doctor." Caldwell turned and left engineering.

Rodney picked up his ever present data pad and stared at it, taking a moment to relish the sense of relief that washed over him. Somewhere along the way, jumping from what seemed like one perilous and life threatening situation to another, he'd developed a deep rooted loyalty to his team members; a level of loyalty Rodney really couldn't remember having given to anyone else before. A small smile played at his mouth.

"Dr. McKay?"

Rodney's head snapped up, his smile fading as he looked at Hermiod. "Right. Let's get to it."

---------------------------------

"You know?" John managed through gritted teeth as he leaned heavily on Ronon and crashed through a couple low hanging branches, "this just hasn't been my day… or two…" he glanced questioningly at his teammate.

"Two," Ronon answered.

"Right." John stumbled hard, his bad leg catching on a protruding tree root and twisting as his boot toe hung on it. He felt like someone had stuck a red hot fire poker in his leg and a barely muted cry escaped him. The trip was a catalyst, sparking a cascading reaction of pain that swarmed over him in a rush of misery. Suddenly, John found himself fighting just to stay conscious. Blindsided by it, his free arm shot up, clenching hard to his side as spikes of agony nearly crippled him. He lurched, his bad leg giving out under him and if it wasn't for Ronon, he was sure he would've fallen… and probably stayed where he fell.

"Sheppard." Ronon's grip on his belt tightened as he hauled John along. "We can't stop now. They're too close."

John drew in a shallow, wheezing breath. "I know. Just give me… a second…" He staggered, falling heavily against Ronon who finally stopped moving. Pain, injury, shock, they all caught up with him... overwhelmed him. He felt the end of his endurance surging towards him like a freight train and he couldn't run fast enough to escape. His stomach was doing summersaults and even his good leg trembled as he fought just to stay upright. "Ronon," he croaked, "I…" He felt the intensity of Ronon's stare as he tried to pull himself together.

"Can you move?"

John forced his scattered brain to focus. Ronon's voice held a note of understanding, as if the big man could see right through him and knew exactly what was going on. John took stock of his condition as he held as tightly as he could to Ronon. He tried to think of some witty quip; something to lighten the situation, to show Ronon he wasn't as bad as he looked, but nothing came to mind. "I… I don't know," he managed.

Ronon looked around at the dense vegetation. "Don't think I can carry you through this."

"Probably not," John really didn't know one way or the other, so for the moment, he bowed to Ronon's assessment. "But, we can't… stay here."

"Leg's bleeding again."

John looked down, blinked hard against his blurred vision and focused on a steady path of blood working its way down his leg. Only then did he become aware of the wet sticky cloth that clung to his leg. Through the pain, he'd never noticed. "Well, that's… not helping…"

"Nope."

Swallowing again against his nausea, John felt Ronon duck out from under his arm and push him back against a tree. He looked into an intense set of dark eyes as Ronon held firmly onto his shoulders.

"Stand here. Don't sit down." Ronon's face inched closer to John's. "You sit down right now, you won't get up again."

John stared back for a second before nodding slightly. He reached behind and grabbed the rough tree trunk with both hands. "Don't sit… right. Good plan…" His head fell back against the hard wood and he forced the knee of his good leg to lock as Ronon slowly let go.

Ronon tore a long strip of cloth from the bottom of his shirt and knelt.

"We gotta… get you to… wear a TAC vest…carry supplies…" John managed a small smile as Ronon paused and glowered up at him.

"I travel light." Reaching behind John's leg, Ronon wrapped the makeshift bandage around the pre-existing one and pulled it tight.

Fire shot through John and he couldn't quite stop the quiet but intense cry of pain that escaped his clenched teeth. "Damn," he gasped.

"Sorry. But, it'll help." Ronon stood and lifted John's arm over his shoulders once again.

The faint voices from behind grew louder as John weakly pushed himself away from the tree. "Time's up."

"Yep." Ronon grabbed John's belt and hauled him forward.

John tried with everything he had to help carry his own weight as much as possible, but in the end he knew Ronon still shouldered most of it. All things considered, the pace they kept was impressive and somewhere in the haze in his head, John found a brief spark of admiration. He always knew Ronon was strong, hell, all you had to do was look at him to see that, but, as they trudged through the woods, he began to realize just how strong and how much stamina the big Satedan had. John knew Marines that, in full gear, could run circles around him all day, who he doubted could do as much as Ronon was doing now and for how long he had been doing it.

Faint voices from behind reached John's ears. "Who are these…guys…?" he wondered aloud.

"T'eshii," Ronon answered quietly.

John faltered, his mind reeling at Ronon's casual revelation. He staggered forward as Ronon silently insisted they keep moving. "Who… are T'eshii?"

Ronon glanced over his shoulder as the voices grew louder, before giving John a no-nonsense look.

John nodded slightly. "Right. Tell me… later." His bad leg completely useless and his good leg reaching the breaking point from exhaustion, he tripped hard, forcing Ronon to slow the pace. "Ronon," John gulped as sweat streamed down his face, "we gotta… lose these guys. I can't…"

"I know," Ronon interrupted, "we will."

John arched a brow at the confident tone of Ronon's voice. "You have a... plan."

"Yep." Ronon changed directions and pushed through some thick brush.

_Of course he does…_ John rolled his eyes. "Care to… fill me in?"

"Not now." Ronon answered directly. "But, we can't lose them forever."

"Don't… have to…" John replied. "Atlantis can't… dial in, but… they'll send… the Daedalus. We just… have to stay… ahead of these guys… until then."

"How long?

Dark irony swept through John. He knew without a doubt that Elizabeth would dispatch the Daedalus as fast as possible, but it could be six hours or six weeks until they arrived and he had no clue which one it was. Once again, John irrationally cursed Rodney for not being there. "No… idea."

"We'll make it," Ronon immediately answered. "You trust me?"

Ronon's voice sounded unerringly confident, but also slightly amused, almost as if this had become some sort of deadly game. Strangely, John realized, in a dark way, his years as a Runner were a game; and Ronon had got very good at playing it. John smiled slightly. "Yeah, big guy… I do."

"Okay, then." Ronon pushed back some branches and stopped for a moment, staring at the wide but shallow river below them. "We'll hit the river, go upstream then cross. They will find our trail, but it'll slow them down some until they do. Might give me time to find a spot to leave you, go back, and plant some false trails to confuse them."

John nodded slightly, the discussion of tactics giving him something to focus on. "Good plan." He blinked hard. "Eventually, we need… to head back to the Gate. It's the first place… search parties will… look."

Ronon tightened his grip on John. "Sounds good." Carefully, Ronon supported John as they made their way down the short decline to the fast moving, clear river.

John closed out the bitter cold of the water as they sloshed out into the river until they were ankle deep then turned upstream. Though shallow, John found the current to be swift and strong, especially against his battered and exhausted body. Still, he managed to keep up with Ronon as they made their way upstream.

After about a hundred yards, Ronon led him the rest of the way across the river and into the trees again.

John grabbed a tree and turned back, peeking through the cover as the first group of pursuers appeared downstream. They stopped puzzled, before fanning out and examining the riverbank. He looked at Ronon and nodded. "Shouldn't take them... long to find where... we went in, but... it'll take them… a while to find... where we went out."

Ronon eased under John's arm and helped him turn before they resumed their march through the trees. "Yep."

John's mind refocused, centering on one task: staying on his feet. All thoughts of tactics, the enemy... Atlantis, they all left him. His battered and exhausted mind could only handle one thing at a time, and right now, staying mobile was the most important task he had. Clenched hard to Ronon's shoulder, John's fingers were tingling, but he refused to loosen his grip. The pain from his leg washed over him in great waves of misery, but he breathed through them, each deep, cleansing breath pushing them back like a breakwater. Even his good leg screamed at him, but he forced it to compliance. Each step was a mission; a goal he was determined to achieve.

He almost fell as Ronon pushed through some trees and stopped. John held tight to his shoulders and weakly looked up at him. "What?" he gasped.

Ronon's gaze darted around the small clearing before he nodded once, curtly. "Good spot." He helped John to a large, overturned tree stump and eased him to the ground.

Though cold and damp, the ground under him felt comforting and John let his head fall back against the stump as Ronon stretched his bad leg out straight, the pain of moving it nothing compared to what he'd just endured. John's heavy eyelids drooped then shut as a warm, floating feeling started to creep over him.

"Sheppard."

John's eyes snapped open. He took as deep a breath as he could and focused on Ronon's intent gaze. After a moment, the big man shrugged out of his trench coat and laid it over John's bare chest.

"I'm going back to cut some trails. Stay awake." Ronon reached behind his back and grabbed the gun John had taken in the compound but had been unable to hang onto while they ran. "Take this. I won't be long. Don't shoot me when I come back."

John smiled faintly and took the gun. "Try not to. Just let me know it's you... okay?"

"You'll know." Ronon effortlessly got to his feet, before disappearing, almost silently, into the woods.

John looked around the clearing, a faint feeling of disquiet coming over him. Besides the gun in his hand, he knew he was about as helpless as a newborn kitten. His grip tightened on the gun as a moment of frustration swept through him. _Good going, Sheppard. Ronon's out there, risking his neck for you and all you can do is sit on your ass and hope he doesn't get killed!_ He lifted his head and tried to get up, only to fall back against the stump. Exhaustion, strengthened by pain and injury, had a firm hold on him and no matter how frustrated or determined he was John realized that he wasn't going anywhere, anytime soon.

He shifted the coat and looked down at his leg, grimacing at the deep red stain that showed through the most recent bandage. "Aw hell," he muttered. All the running and abuse definitely wasn't doing anything to help the bleeding and John only hoped that this brief rest would slow it. He let his mind wander. _Who are these guys? T'eshii?_ _Who the hell are the T'eshii?_ Ronon knew, and briefly John gave into frustration. _He never mentioned them..._ Trust overwhelmed his anger and he took faith in knowing that Ronon must've had a really good reason for never mentioning them. His thoughts lingered on his teammate, alone against who knows how many T'eshii, with no one to watch his six. "This has to turn out better than last time," he muttered...

"_Shep, just stay here and don't worry. I'll be back." Lindner insisted, his voice strengthened by a firm hand on John's chest._

_John's gaze hardened as he fought blood loss and tried to give his friend a stern, commanding look. "Negative... Captain. It's too dangerous... and you know it. Don't do it... that's an order." But even as the words left his mouth, John knew they were meaningless in the face of Lindner's challenging look._

"_You're hardly in a position to be ordering anything, buddy," Lindner's gaze hardened. "Those four guards block our only way out of this valley and back to allied territory, and you know it. We don't do this, and get out of here, it won't be long until the Taliban find us." _

_John closed his eyes, the feel of the bloody bandage under his hand only reminding him he was in no condition to enforce his order... and that Lindner was right. "Damn it, Chuck," he shook his head and leaned back against the rock. "Be careful."_

_A confident half smile sprang to Lindner's face. "Always, Shep! First round in Kandahar is on you." He stood and crept away. _

_John lost track of time as he laid there, feeling the sun move across his body, before disappearing behind the far horizon. It'd been a long time since Lindner had left... too long. His eyelids drooped as the slow, but consistent blood loss ate away at his hold on consciousness. The darkening sky didn't help, but when a quiet scrabbling on the rocks nearby reached his ears, adrenaline sharpened him. His grip on the gun tightened, but at the same time hope flared within him as he waited to see Lindner's cocky expression. _

_Instead, he saw a dark shadow stop only a few paces from him. He lifted the gun._

"_Major Sheppard?" A deep voice asked._

_John's gaze narrowed, but he didn't lower the gun. "Yes?"_

_The figure raised both hands in a placating gesture. "Captain Hollister, sir. We've been looking for you." _

_Something in the soldier's voice made John trust him, not that he could've held the gun up much longer anyway. "Captain. I'd say... you found me."_

_The figure trotted up to him and knelt before pulling a fresh bandage from his TAC vest. More figures materialized out of the darkness, quickly setting a small perimeter around John and Hollister. The captain quickly and efficiently bandaged John's side before grabbing his arm to help him rise. _

"_Sir, we have to get going."_

_John nodded. "My crewman... Captain Lindner..." his voice trailed off as Hollister's expression sobered._

_The captain shook his head slightly. "No, sir." _

_John's eyes slid shut. "Damn..."_

John pushed away the memory and focused on the here and now. Ronon was as good a fighter as he'd ever seen and seven years of running from the Wraith had forged an uncanny knack for survival in the Satedan. His eyelids drooped again as the lulling warmth of unconsciousness made another bid for control. This time, his strength weakened, John couldn't resist its call.


	6. Chapter 6

_The reviews have been great! I'm so glad you all are enjoying the story. They're in quite a tight spot, aren't they? (grin)_

He peered through the thick bushes, watching... waiting. They were coming. He knew it. They'd find the tracks out of the river; they'd have to be blind to miss them, but after that?

Ronon smiled. In the short time since he'd left Sheppard, he'd managed to beat several false trails, each leading off in a different direction. He crouched lower as three T'eshii emerged from the underbrush, following one false trail he'd left. Ronon's smile turned predatory. This group followed a path almost opposite in direction from where Sheppard was. The diversion was working... it was time to make it work even better.

As they passed him, Ronon silently stepped out behind the group. Wasting no time Ronon grabbed the rearmost T'eshii and twisted his head hard, breaking his neck and killing him instantly. Faster than the other two could react, Ronon pulled a knife and threw it, taking one of them in the throat. He was on the final guard before the other one even hit the ground. Ronon knocked the gun from his hand and put his size to good use as he drove the final guard hard against a tree, before delivering a focused, forceful blow, crushing the man's windpipe. He let the final T'eshii slide to the ground, ignoring the dying man's weak choking. Only a few seconds passed before the woods were silent again.

Surrounded by three dead bodies, Ronon took a moment to breathe deeply as he considered his next move. He knelt, pulling what looked like a water flask from the belt of the first guard. He carefully opened it, sniffed once, before taking a small, cautious sip. The water was slightly stale, but good. He corked the flask and stood. Something in the woods shifted, setting off alarms within him. Instinctively, he turned his head in the general direction of Sheppard's position. Ronon's gaze narrowed. Cussing under his breath, his growl was quiet but intense as he took off through the trees towards his friend.

--------------------------------------

"_Major, we have to keep going. Stay on your feet, sir."_

_Hollister's words sounded distant, echoing in his mind, but John still found a way to heed them. They were behind enemy lines, with who knows how many Taliban lurking in the hills. They had to get back to allied territory and fast, but exhaustion and the blood loss from his wound were taking a toll on John's stamina. His gut twisted as again his thoughts touched on Lindner. "Chuck," he muttered. He felt Hollister's grip on him tighten._

"_I'm sorry sir, we were too late to save Captain Lindner. Looks like he was ambushed."_

_John nodded. "Sons of bitches." His voice, though weak still held the cold tone of his anger._

"_Yes, sir," Hollister agreed._

_It'd only been a couple months since John had stood up at Chuck's wedding. Deep inside, John made a promise to himself that he'd see Janet Linder, talk to her... apologize. He owed her that much. John pushed the thoughts of his crewmate... his friend away and focused on the now._

"_We're not far, sir," Hollister reassured. "EVAC transport will rendezvous with us just over the next ridge."_

_John swallowed and steeled himself. "Sounds good... Captain." His head turned at a slight sound just to their left. "What..."_

John slowly opened his eyes, his senses sharpening at the distinct sound of a snapping twig. His grip tightened on the gun as he slowly turned his head towards the sound. Someone was coming through the bushes, he was sure, and whoever they were, they weren't skilled woodsmen. _Which means it's not Ronon..._ He swallowed hard against his parched throat and lifted the gun. Adrenaline surged through him as one T'eshii stepped into the clearing, his gun pointed at John. John forced as much determination and strength into his gaze as he could, and met the cold glare of his enemy.

"Here you are." The T'eshii slowly walked towards John, his gun never wavering. "I suggest you lower the gun, John Sheppard. You do not appear to be able to handle it anyway."

John glanced down at his shaking hand. He slowly lifted his other hand and reinforced his grip. "Care to find out?" He managed.

The T'eshii's brows quirked slightly in mild amusement. "You are much stronger than most that survive an encounter with the Interrogator." He waved one hand dismissively before taking a step closer, his gun never wavering. "But, no matter. You will surrender now."

John swallowed hard. "Sorry... not in the mood," he quipped darkly.

"Come now, John Sheppard," the T'eshii shook his head slightly. "If you were to fire upon me and kill me, the sound would bring every T'eshii for miles. You do not seem to be in a condition to outrun them." His smile was chilling. "You are outmatched."

John fought the look of surprise on his face as from nowhere, a set of hands grabbed the T'eshii from behind. One hand held the guard as the other drew a knife across his throat, leaving a trail of dark red behind it before the guard could cry out in alarm. The hands let go, allowing the dying T'eshii to slide to the ground. "Not as outmatched as you think," a deep voice stated plainly. Still holding the knife firmly, Ronon stared dispassionately at John. "Gonna shoot me?"

John lowered his gun and found a small, humorless smile. "Good timing."

Ronon grunted. "The rest are following false trails right now. We have a little time." He casually stepped over the dead T'eshii and walked to John before kneeling. He was silent for a moment.

John let his head fall against the stump and stared back. "Glad I didn't have to shoot him. Would've shot your plan all to hell."

A corner of Ronon's mouth turned up briefly before his expression sobered. "How you doing?"

"Compared to being dead? Great." John quipped weakly. Ronon pulled a long leather strap off his shoulders and it was only then that John noticed a canteen hanging at his side. "Is that..."

"Water," Ronon answered. He pulled the stopper from the canteen and held it out to John. "Here."

John set his gun down and took hold of the flask. His hands were shaking badly and it took both for him to hold the canteen marginally stable. He nodded slightly at Ronon as the Satedan silently reached out and steadied his hands, helping him drink.

The water was warm, but tasted sweet as it slid down his parched throat. He forced himself to only take a couple sips and then pause as Ronon lent a voice to his actions.

"Slowly."

John nodded. "I know." He took another sip and pushed the flask towards Ronon. "Here."

Ronon's gaze narrowed. "You need it more than me."

John cocked his head slightly. "You're not a damn camel. Drink."

"Camel?" Ronon's gaze turned slightly confused.

"Never mind," John spared one hand from the canteen to wave dismissively. "The point is you've been hauling my butt through the woods for hours. You need it. Drink."

Amusement crinkled Ronon's eyes. "Is that an order?"

John's head again fell back against the stump. "You're not going to make me enforce it if I say yes, right?"

What passed for a gruff chuckle escaped Ronon as he took a long drink from the canteen before corking the top and setting it next to him. He sat back, leaning on one arm and throwing the other over his bent knee. "We can't stay long."

John nodded, his head rubbing against the rough stump. Silence descended between him and Ronon and he let it linger for a few, long minutes before addressing the one thing that plagued his thoughts. "Who are the T'eshii and why haven't you mentioned them before?"

Ronon sighed and shook his head subtly. "I thought they were all dead."

"Guess not," John answered. He pursed his lips. "What do you know about them?"

"They used to be Genii." Ronon's voice was quiet. "They split from their people a few generations ago."

The pain and fatigue in John gave way to his racing mind. Concentration strengthened him. "Split? Why?"

Ronon shrugged. "Don't know for sure. My people believed it was because they didn't think the Genii were doing enough to stop the Wraith."

John was incredulous. "Not enough? The Genii, by and large, are fanatics. Anyone that gets in their way are dealt with. You're saying these guys are worse?"

"Not much is known about them, even by my people." Ronon sighed. "I do know that they once killed everyone on a planet that their intelligence said was going to be culled. They think if they kill the food source, they kill the Wraith. The only people they care to save are themselves. Everyone else is expendable."

"Genocide?" John's eyes widened in shock. "Of an entire planet?"

"There was only a couple hundred people scattered through a few villages, but yes." Ronon sat up and crossed his legs. "They don't have the technology to do much more..." his gaze narrowed. "yet."

Licking his lips, John looked away, his mind reeling. _What the hell..._ He took as deep a breath as his protesting ribs would allow. "I thought the Genii were bad..." he muttered. John looked back at Ronon. "You said you thought they were all dead?"

Ronon nodded. "If there's one thing all the Wraith seem to agree on is eliminating the T'eshii. A few years back on one of the planets I visited when I was running, I heard tell that the Wraith had tracked down where the T'eshii were hiding and had wiped them out. No one believed that any of them survived, or at least not enough for the T'eshii to be a threat anymore." Ronon's expression darkened. "Should've known better."

"Can't believe Teyla never mentioned them either," John shook his head.

"Don't think she knows." Ronon answered quietly.

John's gaze narrowed. "What do you mean?"

Ronon grunted. "She didn't know about the real Genii way of life until she took you there."

"And you did?" John's voice was slightly disbelieving.

"Always." Ronon shrugged. "Satedans were among a small number of people who know who the Genii really were, and even then that knowledge was limited to people that traveled to the Genii home world. Mostly government and military. We also knew they hid their true nature from most people in the galaxy. It was a tense alliance, but one we managed to keep, for a while anyway." Ronon's voice trailed off and he fell silent.

"Great," John shook his head. "Just what we need, another bad guy to worry about. How technologically advanced are they?"

Ronon shrugged. "Don't know for sure. Probably like the Genii, maybe a little less. Not as advanced as Atlantis, or even how my people were." Ronon's gaze narrowed and he looked away for a moment before once again locking gazes with John. "Sheppard," he said gruffly. "I though they were all dead."

John pressed his lips together for a moment. Although Ronon didn't say the words, there was a distinct note of apology in his tone. "I know," he nodded, "don't worry about it. Let's just find a way out of here."

Ronon stood and slung the water canteen over his shoulder before extending a hand to John. "We probably should get moving."

John swallowed hard, dreading having to move, much less walk. "Right." He held his gun with one hand and extended the other to Ronon who firmly grabbed his wrist and pulled him up. The pain that had dulled to a manageable throb sprang to life again, sending waves of agony over him. The gun slipped from his hand as John doubled over with a muted cry, one arm supporting his ribs while the other grabbed his thigh. "Damn it," he gasped, swaying. He felt Ronon's strong grip on his waist.

"Easy."

"Not sure how far I can go... big guy," John admitted sourly between gasps.

"I know." Still supporting John, Ronon reached down and gently grabbed his thigh near the wound. "Leg's hot." He straightened and pressed his knuckles against John's face. "You're warm."

"Infection," John croaked. "Was wondering... when it'd show up..." John felt himself tremble slightly, all the strength he'd gained back from his short respite draining quickly from his body. "Leave the bandages..." he went on, "they're the only thing... slowing the bleeding. Not much to clean... have to have antibiotics."

Ronon ducked under John's arm and held him firmly. "We gotta move."

John nodded weakly. "I know. Let's go." The fire in his leg redoubled and as Ronon helped him off and into the trees, he honestly wondered how long he could hold out. _Hurry up, guys!_


	7. Chapter 7

_Thanks again for all the great reviews! Sorry it took me a little time to get this chapter done, it was a little complicated to work out. ;)_

The large man looked around the clearing, his teeth grinding in frustration as three more of his men came back... with no prisoner. His cold gaze found one of the men, who briefly averted his eyes.

"I am sorry, sir. There appears to be a great many false trails. Whoever freed this John Sheppard is a skilled woodsman."

He turned away, a twig snapping under the weight of his heavy step. "He is wounded. They cannot get far." He slowly turned and fixed his second with a cold, angered look. "Find them, or you will take his place." He resisted a malicious smile as his second in command noticeably paled.

"Yes, sir." The man turned and waved at two others before the three of them disappeared into the woods.

Crossing the small clearing, he knelt next to one of the many tracks leading into the woods. _Yes,_ he mused, _this unknown one is skilled..._ but, he had been raised in the great forests of their recent home world... forests now lay to waste by the Wraith. His anger flared. This was his element and well he knew it. He would find this John Sheppard and know all he was hiding. His grip tightened on the unfamiliar gun he'd taken from Sheppard. It was light, compact and when he fired it, he knew it was more powerful and deadly than he'd ever seen. The T'eshii possessed no such weapons, nor had he ever seen the likes of them before. From the first moment he had laid eyes on his prisoner, he'd known there was something different about him... something he was hiding... and if this gun was any indication, something that would benefit the T'eshii in ways he could only imagine.

A glint of red caught his eye and he slowly pushed aside a branch. Blood, faint and drying discolored a leaf right along the path. He brushed his finger over it, and stared at the smear of blood on his hand before slowly smiling. He stood and looked back at the four remaining men. "Come with me." He turned and confidently followed the track into the trees.

----------------------------------

The growing twilight slowed Ronon's pace as it became increasingly difficult for him to see the ground under his feet. He gritted his teeth, stoically remaining silent as he shouldered the nearly all of Sheppard's weight. The colonel was doing his best, making a valiant effort to carry himself, but his injuries and the slow, steady bleeding from his leg were sapping his strength and stamina. Sheppard's words echoed in his head.

_Not sure how far I can go... big guy..._

Ronon wasn't sure either and truthfully he was amazed Sheppard had lasted this long. A good three inches shorter and thirty pounds lighter Sheppard surprised Ronon with his toughness. A moment of dark humor swept through Ronon. _Half of it is stubbornness..._ Ronon had never met someone with more blunt tenacity than Sheppard and in a way he admired it. It'd gotten them out of tough spots before. His thoughts refocused as Sheppard stumbled hard, and Ronon's grip was the only thing that saved the colonel from falling. He stopped and looked down at the hunched over man. "Sheppard?"

"Still... here..."

Ronon frowned at his weak voice. "Gotta find a spot for you to rest."

"Can't..." Sheppard gasped. "Have to stay... ahead of 'em."

Ronon stared for a moment at Sheppard's pale, sweaty face. He met the colonel's glassy and pain filled expression and held it for a moment. _He can't do this. _ Ronon nodded curtly more to himself than anyone. He turned his back to Sheppard while still keeping hold of his arm and pulling it over his shoulder.

"What are you... doing?"

Ronon reached over his shoulder. "Give me your other hand."

"Ronon," Sheppard's protest was weak, "I won't do this... to you. You can't... protect yourself if... you're exhausted from carrying... me."

Irritation flared in Ronon and he turned his head, fixing Sheppard with a strong look. "You can't walk anymore. This is the only way." His gaze narrowed as Sheppard shook his head slightly.

"You can... leave me here," he responded quietly.

Surprise, laced with unexpected shock coursed through Ronon. "No," he immediately responded, but from the look on Sheppard's face, the colonel wasn't going to let it go that easily.

"I'm not... going to let them catch... both of us. You can stay ahead... of them... and get help... when it arrives." Sheppard managed.

Ronon held fast to the colonel's arm as he tried to pull away. "Not gonna happen."

"Ronon..."

"No!" Ronon cut off Sheppard's weak warning. "I'm not going anywhere without you. Now, give me your other arm or I'll pick you up anyway." Ronon's expression turned scathing as he lowered his voice to quiet but menacing tone. "But that'll probably hurt a lot more." He held Sheppard's gaze for a long moment before the colonel nodded weakly and extended his arm. Ronon turned, squatted and pulled both of Sheppard's arms over his shoulders. He stood, easily picking the colonel up off the ground. Ronon shifted his balance, compensating for the extra weight. Sheppard's head was near his and he could feel and hear the labored breathing and grunts of pain the colonel tried to swallow.

"Thought I was... in command," Sheppard managed through rough gasps.

"Bending the rules," Ronon responded as he started off through the trees.

"Who told you... you could do... that?"

"Teyla." Ronon smiled slightly.

"She... would," Sheppard quipped weakly.

Except for soft grunts, Sheppard fell quiet and Ronon suspected it took everything the colonel had just to breathe through his pain, much less do any talking. The muscles in Ronon's legs and shoulders burned, but stoically, Ronon tuned them out. _Pain is something to be conquered..._ the words of his Taskmaster echoed in his head. Turning within himself, Ronon fortified his strength. He'd do this for Sheppard. Not just because somewhere along the way, the colonel had earned his respect and loyalty; something Ronon never gave lightly, but because he knew without a doubt, that Sheppard would do the same for him...

"_Sheppard!" Ronon managed through gritted teeth as he clutched his obviously broken lower leg, "get out of here!"_

"_No can do, big guy." Sheppard knelt next to Ronon, his P-90 focused across the large meadow. "Rodney and Teyla are already through to Atlantis. I'm not leaving this planet without you."_

"_It won't take the natives long to find us," Ronon protested. "It's my own fault. Should've seen that hole..."_

"_Well, if we wouldn't have desecrated their holy ground we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place." Sheppard groused. "Remind me to beat a hasty retreat the next time we come onto some ugly damn statue." He extended his hand. "Come on. I'll help you." _

"_Sheppard..."_

"_No arguments! We both can sit on our asses and wait for the natives to find us, or you can let me help you so we both get outta here." He shook his outstretched hand once, emphatically._

_Ronon looked at him for a minute before reaching up and grabbing his wrist. _

_Sheppard nodded curtly and pulled him up on his good leg. He shouldered Ronon's arm. "Nice and easy. Don't put any weight on it."_

"_Just go!" Ronon managed through gritted teeth._

"_Okay! Don't be so damn cranky!" Sheppard headed for the gate..._

Ronon shook off the memory. They'd made it just ahead of the natives, but without Sheppard's help, Ronon knew he would've never gotten away. He chastised himself quietly. He wasn't doing this only because he owed a debt to Sheppard. Ronon smiled slightly. He did it because Sheppard was his friend... and in seven years of running from the Wraith, Ronon had forgotten what it was like to have one. Now that he did, he was going to do his best to protect him.

-------------------------

Pain was the only thing he knew. Great waves of agony washed over him, burying him... consuming him, its suffocating effect trying to drown him. John forced himself to take in a hard, labored breath... then another and another. Breathing became his only task as the primal, base part of his mind took control, shoving his instincts to the forefront.

_Survive..._

It was the only thought his cognitive mind could process; the only one that mattered. Each step Ronon took was agony on his ribs, torture to his leg. Sweat trickled down his face and he keenly felt the heat of fever. It ate away at his strength; a slow but steady erosion he couldn't fight off and knew he'd eventually succumb to.

_NO!_

John grunted, this time in anger. He forced himself to think, to be aware... to not give up.

"River."

Even through his misery, John could hear that exhaustion in Ronon's voice and he wondered how much longer the big Satedan could go on carrying him. The faint splashes of water felt cool on his legs and tempered the fever some as Ronon slogged through the ankle deep water.

John couldn't stifle the sharp cry of pain that escaped him as Ronon stumbled hard, staggering as he made his way up the incline and out of the river. "Ronon..." he managed quietly. He swallowed hard and pulled in a determined breath as the big man continued running, his path taking them back into the trees. "Ronon," he croaked louder. "Stop... rest..." He held tight as Ronon staggered to a stop. John blinked heavily, managing a silent curse at his injuries and what it was doing to Ronon. He could feel great, heaving breaths rapidly entering and exiting Ronon's body and John was sure he could feel the pounding of Ronon's heart. "Put me... down." Ronon's grip on his hands was shaking but still firm. "Now," John insisted.

Ronon crouched and ducked out from under John's arms before turning and helping him to lie down. He shed his long coat and laid it over John.

The ground under him was damp and hard and the dirt stung his raw back, but John still relished it, if only because he was motionless for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. He couldn't see Ronon's face through the dark, but could hear the loud, haggard breaths the Satedan drew in and out, and felt him collapse nearby. "Ronon?" John managed.

"What?"

Ronon's reply was more a gasp than anything. John grimaced. "You... okay?"

"Yeah."

"How far to… the gate?" John stared up at the stars, trying to focus his attention and stay conscious.

"Not far."

"We've never really… been _far,_" John retorted quietly. He heard a soft chuckle.

"We're closer now than before." Ronon answered.

In spite of the abject misery that plagued him, John managed a weak chuckle. He heard Ronon scoot up next to him, before he felt a touch on his arm and the cool surface of the water canteen pushed up against his hand. John lifted his head slightly and shook it. "You first."

"I'm not bleeding," Ronon replied quietly.

"I'm not exhausted... from carrying your butt... miles through the... woods," John retorted. "Now... drink." He smiled slightly as the canteen left his hand and listened as Ronon took a long swallow. The familiar smooth surface once again pressed against his palm.

"Your turn."

John's fingers closed around the canteen and he lifted. He felt the strong support of one of Ronon's hands behind his head, while the other helped him steady the flask. Cooled by the nighttime air, the soft wetness caressed his parched lips. The first swallow was harsh against his scratchy throat, but the next was soft and gratifying. He felt the canteen leave his lips as Ronon tipped it away. His other hand remained behind John's head.

"Easy."

"Yeah." Strengthened by water, John's voice was clearer. "Save it." He felt Ronon carefully lower his head back to the ground. "We gotta be... ahead of… them," John muttered. "You should take... a rest."

"Yeah."

Soft, warm blackness whispered to him, but John turned away from it and zeroed in on the note of frustration in Ronon's voice. "You're not... invincible... you know." He smiled slightly at the soft chuckle that came from Ronon's direction.

"Get some sleep, Sheppard."

John had to admit, the comforting bliss of sleep sounded inviting. He pushed it back. "What about... you?"

"I'll be fine."

Ronon's voice sounded confident, but it was a confidence John didn't share. "Ronon..."

"Sheppard," Ronon interrupted, "I spent seven years as a Runner. I can go days without sleep if I have to."

The dark oblivion was stronger now, weakening his control. John felt his eyelids grow heavy. "...okay..." Finally pushed beyond his endurance, John couldn't resist unconsciousness. If Ronon had a reply, he never heard it as he succumbed to exhaustion.

--------------------------

"Coming up on M44-296, sir."

Caldwell tore his eyes from the large view window and glanced at his pilot. "Geo-synchronous orbit, Webs and scan for life signs."

"Yes, sir."

Caldwell stared at the planet, a moment of hopelessness coming over him. _Somewhere on an entire planet?_ He smothered it. They had sensors and chances are Sheppard and Ronon would be somewhere near the gate… if they were lucky. He looked over his shoulder as Teyla and McKay quickly walked onto the bridge.

"So, where are they?" Rodney immediately demanded as he stopped and looked over Web's shoulder.

"We just started scanning, Dr. McKay," Caldwell bit back his irritation, "nothing yet."

"Of course." Rodney swiftly walked to the back of the bridge and started tapping away on one of the computers tied to the sensor systems.

Caldwell ground his teeth and looked up at Teyla who flashed him a very faint, but understanding smile. His attention was drawn forward again as a diagnostic display came up, showing dozens, even hundreds of life forms spread out over a fairly large region. "Where's the gate in proximity to all these people?" He nodded slightly as a red dot appeared near a small concentration of life signs.

"Looks like six or seven are in relatively close proximity to the gate, with about twenty more not far off." Rodney observed.

Caldwell's gaze narrowed. "The rest are all spread out over a pretty large area," he commented absently.

"For all we know they could be natives and have nothing to do with this. It IS a big continent!" Rodney snapped.

Caldwell turned and gave him a cold stare. "The largest, single concentration of life signs is miles from the gate." He pointed at a densely populated area, well outside the ten-mile grid surrounding the gate. "But, there are groups of five and six life signs scattered all around the gate in almost a search pattern."

"You believe that they are looking for Ronon or the Colonel?" Teyla asked quietly.

"Possibly," Caldwell's brief smile was small. "Sheppard and or Ronon could be leading them on quite a chase, if they've managed to evade capture."

"That's all very fascinating," Rodney walked up and fixed Caldwell with a cold stare, "but how does standing _here_ supposing on what's going on down _there_ help in any way?"

"Because, Dr. McKay," Caldwell raised his voice slightly. "It dictates tactics to us on how to deploy ground support." He turned away from McKay before the doctor could protest and nodded at a Marine standing in the doorway. "Martinson. I want six teams of four, heavily armed, to beam down in these locations." He pointed to various spots on the display. "Make sure one man on each team has the gene and a life signs detector. I want every team to try and avoid confrontation; our objective is to find our people and get them out, but, from what we know, this is a hostile situation." He lowered his hand and looked back at the Marine. "Do what you have to do."

"Yes, sir," Martinson nodded once.

"I wish to go as well, Colonel." Teyla stepped into Caldwell's line of sight.

"I'm going too," Rodney added.

Caldwell smiled and nodded at Teyla. "Figured you two would." He looked up. "Martinson, assign two Marines under Teyla's command." He smiled slightly as Teyla nodded once, her expression warm before she followed Martinson from the bridge, Rodney right behind her.

-------------------------------------------

The familiar tingling of the transporter faded as Rodney immediately pulled out his life signs detector and scanned. "Great," he groused quietly, "every way I turn; life signs."

"How many?" Teyla asked as she walked up next to him.

Rodney started pointing in various directions. "Two that way, five that way and three that way."

Teyla tapped her radio earpiece. "Colonel Sheppard, this is Teyla. Please respond." She sighed quietly and tried again. "Ronon, this is Teyla. Please respond." Teyla looked at Rodney. "Let us start with the two."

"Good plan," Rodney muttered. "Start with the easy one and work up to being screwed." Watching the life signs detector intently he followed Teyla into the trees.

--------------------

At first he resisted. Something jostled him, nudged his shoulder... demanded he come back from the comfort of oblivion. He was nudged again, and this time he listened.

"Sheppard!"

The voice that hissed his name was urgent, and John forced his eyes open. "Ronon?" He blinked hard, pulling together his thoughts and fighting off confusion.

"Someone's coming."

Ronon's simple words sent a strong wave of adrenaline through John that was only fueled by the feel of the hard, smooth butt end of the gun Ronon pushed into his hand. In the grown pre-dawn light, John watched Ronon stand and start away from him. "Where are you... going?"

Ronon stopped and looked at him plainly. "To take care of them."

"Ronon you don't know how many..." John's voice trailed off as a distant snap in the bushes caught both his and Ronon's attentions.

"No time to argue." Ronon stood and quickly disappeared into the trees.

"Damn it," John muttered. His grip tightened on the gun as he forced himself to sit up and against a nearby tree. Frustration angered him. He was helpless, barely able to protect himself much less help Ronon. The minutes dragged by, only adding to his aggravation. A sudden, single gunshot pierced the stillness and his heart leapt, adrenaline surging through him. "Shit!" He hissed. The adrenaline fueled a blunt determination within him and cleared his thoughts. Suddenly, the pain in his leg and his chest, his fever, none of it mattered. Ronon was in trouble he knew it. The gunshot only proved it. Ronon was a member of _his_ team and in trouble. Blunt tenacity, the same bulldog willpower that had gotten him out of tight spots before, powered him and he felt a surge of strength from it.

Rolling onto his good knee, John grabbed the tree, forcing himself upwards. Despite his surge of adrenaline fueled strength, he couldn't help but hiss at the waves of pain from his leg, but he pushed through it. Standing on his good leg, John rested his forehead against the cool tree trunk for a moment, before grabbing a nearby branch and staggering a few steps. For the first time since escaping, the woods worked in his favor as he managed to hobble from branch to branch, using his upper body strength to compensate for his bad leg.

Muffled voices reached his ears and he paused, listening.

"… you must be the one who helped John Sheppard escape…"

_That voice… Heavy Footsteps. _John's eyes closed, memories of a pulley, a whip… a voice, momentarily flowing over him. _Ronon._ He opened his eyes and as quiet as he could, John staggered a few more steps, ignoring the steady stream of sweat that ran down his face. He peered through the trees, noting four motionless and prone guards laying in a circle around Ronon who gripped his arm and glared up at a heavy set T'eshii pointing a P-90 at his head.

_P-90…my P-90… _John stared for a moment at the T'eshii. He'd never seen him before, only heard the voice, felt the blows from his large hands… John's gaze narrowed as anger reinforced his flagging strength.

"John Sheppard cannot be far," Heavy Footsteps commented absently. "His wounds must be grave by now."

John glanced at Ronon who remained quiet, his gaze seething. Pulling in a deep breath, John lifted his gun with one hand, and balanced on a branch with the other as he stepped from the trees and into the small clearing. "Not as… grave as you… think." He held the gun as steady as he could and his expression as hating as possible.

A mild look of surprise crossed Heavy Footsteps' face, but as he glanced at John, he never lowered his weapon. "You're stamina surprises me, John Sheppard." His voice was calm and almost conversational. "You do know that gunshot will bring the full force of the T'eshii down upon you, do you not?"

John shifted all his weight to his protesting good leg and let go of the tree. He reinforced his grip on the gun with his now free hand and glared over the top of the gun at his enemy. "I can still kill you first."

"And risk me shooting your friend as I die? I do not think so." Heavy Footsteps gave him a menacing smile.

John felt his strength lagging and knew he didn't have much more time on his feet. His mind raced.

"Shoot him, Sheppard." Ronon hissed quietly.

The words were all John needed as Heavy Footsteps' attention was drawn back to Ronon. John's gaze narrowed as he focused on the center of Heavy Footsteps' head and squeezed the trigger, praying his grip was steady enough.

The compact handgun was more powerful than John gave it credit for as the kick nearly knocked him over. Heavy Footsteps was propelled off his feet and to the ground before he ever had a chance to fire. John closed his eyes briefly at the carnage his shot caused, before looking back to Ronon who slowly stood and wiped a hand across his face.

"Thanks." Ronon's smile was brief. "We have to get out of here, now."

John felt the strength draining from his body. He waved weakly at Ronon's bleeding arm. "You… okay?" he managed, barely above a whisper.

"Yeah, only grazed me. I'm fine." Ronon's gaze narrowed. "Sheppard?"

Ronon looked distant to John, as if he was staring at him through a long, dim tunnel. "Good…" he muttered, "'cause I'm… not." His leg buckled and the last coherent thought John had was how bad it was going to hurt to fall on his bad leg, but he never felt the ground meet him.

----------------------------------

Rodney staggered to a stop as a second gunshot echoed through the trees. "Okay, _that_ was a lot closer," he panted.

"Yes," Teyla nodded. She looked questioningly at him.

Rodney stared at his life signs detector. "We're closest… wait a minute. There's two instead of three now." He looked up, feeling cold dread grip his gut. "You don't think…"

"We do not know, Rodney." Teyla reassured. "The others?"

Rodney swallowed. "Right. There's four more coming from that way," He pointed off into the distance. "They're further out than us, but not much."

Teyla nodded and started through the trees again.


	8. Chapter 8

He couldn't quite get to Sheppard fast enough to break the colonel's fall. Ronon knelt and turned the unconscious man on his back. "Sheppard?" He really didn't expect any response so the colonel's silence wasn't a surprise. Ronon's frown deepened at the weak, fast pulse that met his fingertips and the warmth that radiated from Sheppard's skin. 

Ronon sighed. Sheppard needed help soon and all of this running wasn't doing him any good either. His gaze found the dead T'eshii, gunshots still ringing in his head. In these woods those shots would be heard for miles. They might have been able to evade their pursuers with only one shot echoing off the trees, but two? The first one would've got the T'eshii's attentions; the second would pinpoint their location. He needed to take Sheppard and go. _Now_.

His gaze returned to the unconscious colonel. "Sorry," he muttered as he grabbed Sheppard's right arm. He'd no sooner started pulling his friend off the ground when a faint rustling in the trees grabbed his attention. He turned sharply, his searching gaze focusing in the direction of another rustle. Slowly, he lowered Sheppard back to the ground. There was no way he could outrun their pursuers carrying his friend, he knew that for sure. Ronon sighed, ignoring the trickle of blood that soaked the top of his vambrace and slowly stood. He pulled his blaster and calmly set it to kill. His stance wide, Ronon stood quietly between the approaching noise and Sheppard, his gun trained on the trees. He had no idea how many T'eshii he was going to face, but one thing he did know is that they'd pay a heavy price to get past him.

Ronon's gaze narrowed, his senses sharpened by adrenaline and tensed as the rustling in the trees grew nearer. A figure emerged and Ronon took aim.

"Do not shoot!"

Ronon jerked his gun aside and inhaled sharply as his eyes met Teyla's.

"Crap!" McKay's face was pale and bordered on terrified. "What is it with you and your 'shoot first ask questions later' mentality?" He snapped. "That is so NOT healthy for the people around you..." his eyes left Ronon and focused on Sheppard. "Oh no..."

Two more Marines entered the small clearing, their guns aimed cautiously at the motionless T'eshii as Teyla and McKay hurried to Sheppard's side.

Ronon briefly made eye contact with both Marines. "They're dead." He turned and knelt next to Teyla. Her hand was on Sheppard's chest and her face masked in worry. "He's pretty bad off," Ronon muttered.

Teyla nodded slightly and tapped her radio. "Daedalus, this is Teyla. We have located Ronon and Colonel Sheppard. We need a medic at our location immediately."

Ronon nodded in approval. "Better get some reinforcements. There's a lot of T'eshii around."

"T'eshii?" McKay interrupted, briefly looking up from the unconscious colonel. "I'm almost afraid to ask, but, who are the T'eshii?"

"Not now, McKay," Ronon grumbled.

Teyla nodded and continued speaking in her radio. "Also, we need reinforcements. Ronon believes there are several... hostiles close by."

"Copy that, Teyla," Caldwell responded. "We'll start beaming the other teams to your location and I'll get you a medic as soon as possible. Caldwell out."

Ronon half smiled at Teyla who nodded silently at him before her eyes followed the bloody path up his arm to his wound.

"Are you all right?" She reached into her vest and pulled out a bandage.

"Yeah, just nicked me." He watched as Teyla quickly wrapped the field dressing around his arm and tied it tightly.

"Uhnnn..."

Ronon looked down as Sheppard's head moved weakly and he groaned. "Sheppard?"

"Here..." Slowly the colonel's eyes opened. His gaze was unfocused and his eyes were bleary. "Wha..." He lifted his head, only to squeeze his eyes shut and fall back to the ground. Sweat trickled down his forehead and cut a clean path through the dirt on his cheeks.

"Do not move, Colonel," Teyla's hand returned to his chest.

"Yeah, I uhh... don't think you're going to be getting up anytime soon," McKay added.

"Teyla?" Sheppard's whisper was incredulous, "Mc... Kay?"

"Here, John," Teyla replied quietly. "We will be moving you to the Daedalus very soon."

"Ronon... okay?"

Ronon's gaze narrowed. Sheppard's voice was heavily slurred, but he could still hear the concern. "I'm fine, Sheppard." His words seemed to satisfy the colonel, who nodded slightly as his eyes closed again.

"What has happened to him?" Teyla's eyes passed over the colonel's body and the bruises, cuts and abuse that covered his torso.

"Besides being shot?" McKay snapped.

Ronon glared at McKay for a moment, before letting his temper dissolve. Behind the grating comments, worry colored McKay's expression. "He was tortured."

"Tortured..." McKay's voice trailed off as a gunshot echoed around them, followed immediately by a pained cry from one of the Marines who crumpled to the ground.

"Take cover!" The other Marine dragged the downed soldier with him towards a tree with one hand, while firing his P-90 into the woods with the other.

"Crap!" McKay grabbed one of Sheppard's arms as Ronon grabbed the other.

Briefly, Ronon was relieved the colonel was unconscious and not able to feel the pain as they unceremoniously dragged him to safety, while Teyla provided cover fire.

Ronon flattened himself against a tree trunk and glanced at Sheppard who lay unmoving. Commotion from the trees caught his eye and he raised his gun. "Watch it!"

Eight T'eshii emerged, firing continuously.

"I thought you said there were only four in the area, Rodney!" Teyla shouted as gunfire ripped through the stump she was hiding behind.

"There were only four the last time I checked!" Rodney retorted. "They must've met up with another group..." He ducked as the T'eshii fire zeroed in on the tree he was using for cover.

Ronon winced as bark from his tree stung his face, before he rolled to his right and returned fire. A spark of satisfaction glimmered within him as his shot took a T'eshii square in the chest. He didn't spare time to watch the T'eshii fall; his gun was set to kill and he knew the soldier was dead before he ever hit the ground.

"Daedalus, this is Teyla," She clasped her hand over her headset in a vain attempt to hear over the gunfire. "We are under attack and need reinforcements now!"

"Copy that, Teyla," Caldwell immediately replied, "teams on the way."

Ronon nodded his approval as a well placed shot by the surviving Marine dropped another T'eshii.

The bright flash of the Daedalus' transporter beam caught all their attentions as six Marines materialized and immediately hit the dirt, returning fire at the surviving T'eshii.

Anther flash produced five more Marines and a medic all of whom dove for cover. After a minute, P-90 fire echoed from the trees behind the T'eshii.

"They're flanked," Ronon observed. "It's over."

On the heels of Ronon's words, a commanding voice echoed through the trees. "You're surrounded! Drop your weapons, now!"

The woods fell silent as the T'eshii seemed to be considering their options. Suddenly, without warning, the six surviving T'eshii emerged from their cover, firing on any target they could find.

Ronon's gaze narrowed as he returned fire, his gun blasts joined by P-90 fire. It was over almost instantly as the overwhelming odds leveled the T'eshii.

Cautiously, the Marines approached and examined the downed soldiers.

"They didn't have a chance and they knew it," one of the Marines observed.

"They'd rather die than get captured," Ronon stated plainly as he stared down at the open, dead eyes of another T'eshii.

The medic shrugged out of a large backpack and paused to take stock of the situation. His eyes settled on the shot Marine. "How is he?"

The other Marine that dragged him to cover shook his head slowly.

"Damn it," the medic muttered. He turned and trotted over to where Teyla and Rodney knelt next to Sheppard. "Lieutenant Myers. I need some room here." Teyla stood and backed away giving the medic the space he needed to work. Ronon walked over to join them and arched a brow at McKay who, sitting on the other side of Sheppard, refused to move. Ronon just stared at the medic, tensely and silently, McKay and Teyla following suit. He heard more Marines transport in behind him, as he watched Lieutenant Myers start an IV on Sheppard.

"Team one this is Caldwell. What's the situation down there?"

Ronon and Teyla both looked at Sergeant Martinson who nodded and tapped his radio. "Martinson here, sir. The area is secure for now. Lieutenant Myers is examining Colonel Sheppard at the moment."

"Copy that, Martinson. Keep me apprised of the situation. Caldwell out."

Gently, Myers cut away the bandage on Sheppard's leg before he turned it slightly and craned his head to see the underside of his thigh. "No exit wound. The bullet's still in there." He looked up at Ronon. "And he's been running around on it?"

Somewhere inside, Ronon knew the medic wasn't being critical. The man was an Air Force officer and understood that in combat, sometimes you didn't have options. He tried to curb his own exhaustion but recognized the irritated note in his voice. "No choice." He looked pointedly at the dead T'eshii then back to the medic.

Myers sighed. "Yeah." He sat back. "This is tricky. Near as I can tell from the entry wound the bullet has to be close to the femoral artery. It's a miracle it didn't lacerate the artery and bleed out before now." Myers pressed on the wound his frown deepening. "Infected too." He shook his head. "He needs a surgeon as soon as possible."

"Then tell me why," McKay snapped, "the damn surgeon from the Daedalus isn't standing here instead of you?"

Myers glared at McKay. "Because, we don't have one, Dr. McKay. Dr. Hennessy was reassigned right before we left Earth for Pegasus. A new surgeon will come on board when we get back."

"Which does us absolutely no good _right now_!" McKay retorted hotly.

"Then we must get him onboard the Daedalus and back to Atlantis as fast as possible," Teyla interjected quietly. Her gaze narrowed as Myers shook his head.

"It's at least ten hours to Atlantis. This wound is what, twelve or more hours old? The infection is already spreading rapidly. I can put him on antibiotics, but we need to get the bullet out and debride the wound. Period. We wait another twelve hours..." his voice trailed off.

"He'll die?" Ronon asked quietly.

Myers shrugged. "Maybe. But he'll probably lose his leg either to save his life from infection, or from compromised blood supply. Either way..." Myers sighed.

Ronon ground his teeth so hard he swore the others could hear it in the heavy silence that followed Myers' words.

"Get me to the gate," McKay suddenly proclaimed.

"It is disabled, Rodney," Teyla answered quietly.

"I _know _that!" McKay took a deep breath. "I could probably think circles around these idiots. Whatever they did, I can fix it. Then we dial Atlantis and have Sheppard in Carson's care in no time."

Ronon glanced at Teyla, meeting her uncertain look.

She sighed and tapped her radio, contacting the Daedalus to brief them on the situation.

Ronon stared for a moment at Sheppard as he mulled over the colonel's fate. For all Sheppard's easy going outward appearances, Ronon had learned that a warrior's heart beat just under the surface and the passionate fire of one born to protect burned within him. It was a kinship Ronon never expected to find in the colonel. Without his leg... Ronon shook his head. He personally knew if he were to lose the ability to fight, to protect; to have that flame of passion extinguished, that the fire for life within him would die as well. Ronon suspected it would be the same with Sheppard.

"Dr. McKay," Caldwell's voice resonated from the radio secured in Teyla's vest, "are you sure you can fix the gate?"

Ronon's gaze shifted to McKay, watching as he looked down at Sheppard.

McKay's expression was an odd mix of concern and determination with no hint of the normal arrogance. It was a peculiar look for the normally snappy doctor. He swallowed and grabbed his radio. "Yes. I'm certain I can fix it."

"We don't have a choice," Ronon muttered.

Even over the radio, Caldwell's sigh was audible. "Damn fine time to be caught without a surgeon... Okay. There looks to be about ten hostiles around the gate. I'll authorize a strike team to secure the area. When that's done, we'll beam your group in, Doctor, including the Colonel. Caldwell out."

"Great," McKay muttered. "Hurry up and wait..."

"I hope they do not have too much resistance securing the gate," Teyla sighed. She looked down as Myers snorted quietly.

"You kidding?" Myers cut back Sheppard's pant leg, "There's a unit of Army Rangers on the Daedalus. They're being rotated off Atlantis for a new unit coming in on our next trip back. They're part of the effort to supplement Atlantis' military forces and covert ops capacities." Myers wrapped a sterile dressing around the wound. "I'll bet you a week's pay that's who the Colonel sends. They're perfect for this. Damn... what did you call them? T'eshii? Won't know what hit 'em."

Ronon nodded silently. He'd seen the Rangers in action and suspected if there was a full unit of them, they wouldn't have too much trouble. He arched a brow cynically. Trouble for them, anyway... he looked down again as Sheppard groaned.

"John?" Teyla stepped around Myers and knelt next to the colonel's head.

"T...shii..." Sheppard's head thrashed weakly. "Get... away..."

"It is all right now, John," Teyla soothed quietly. "You are safe."

Ronon looked over Teyla's shoulder his gaze narrowing as Sheppard's thrashing strengthened.

"No... you, McKay... Ronon... T'eshii..."

"Damn it."

Myers' quiet outburst grabbed Ronon's attention. The medic had a strong hold on Sheppard's leg and was shaking his head in worry.

"The fever and blood loss are playing games with his head, but, he needs to stop moving, especially this leg. I don't know exactly where that bullet is and until I can get his leg completely immobilized he could cause serious damage."

Ronon stepped around Teyla and knelt next to Myers. He took a firm hold on Sheppard's leg, just above the wound as Myers held tightly just below the colonel's knee.

"T'eshii..." Sheppard croaked his voice stronger... more desperate.

"John," Teyla's hand moved from his chest to his cheek as she leaned in closer. "John, listen to me." Her voice was soft and reassuring. "We are all safe from the T'eshii. You must be still."

"Safe? Team..." John's thrashing weakened as his bleary eyes focused on her.

Ronon glanced at Teyla as she smiled slightly.

"Yes, John," Teyla reassured, "Ronon and Rodney are right here with me. We are all safe and so are you. Relax now. Let us help you." She continued to hold his gaze until his body went limp and his eyes closed again. Teyla sat back. "He was more concerned about us than himself, but that does not surprise me."

Ronon nodded silently. One of the many things he'd learned about Sheppard was the colonel's dedication to his team; the people under his command. He took their safety and well being personally and it was a trait Ronon deeply respected. So much that somewhere along the way, he'd decided to take it upon himself to make sure that, in the name of putting himself second to his team, the colonel still had someone watching his back... whether he wanted it or not, orders be damned.

_"Thought I was... in command," Sheppard managed through rough gasps._

_"Bending the rules," Ronon responded..._

"Team one this is Caldwell," the colonel's voice abruptly came across all their radios. "The gate is secure. Stand by for transport."

Teyla glanced at Myers who nodded before she tapped her radio. "Colonel this is Teyla. We are ready and standing by."

A moment later, Ronon felt the familiar tingling throughout his body and the next thing he knew, he was staring at the Stargate. Ronon looked around, noting the large group of Rangers who patrolled a tight perimeter. The bodies of several dead T'eshii littered the ground around them. "Not much of a fight," he commented to no one in particular.

"Nope." One of the Rangers briefly made eye contact with Ronon, before he continued on his patrol.

"Excuse me, coming through. Yes, Doctor on a mission," McKay's voice was mildly irritated as he wove a path through milling soldiers and patrolling Rangers. He stopped in front of the DHD.

"The guy I killed was working on the gate, not the dialing device," Ronon directed his comment at McKay who turned and looked at him.

"Where?" Ronon pointed to the far side of the gate. "There." McKay turned and blanched at the body of the T'eshii Ronon had killed a day ago. "Yeah, okay." He waved absently at some of the Marines. "Can someone please get... that..." his waving turned vigorous, "away?"

Two Marines shot McKay an annoyed look but silently walked over and pulled the dead T'eshii away from the gate.

McKay followed at a safe distance and then approached the gate. He knelt, examining it closely.

"Can you fix it, Rodney?" Teyla asked anxiously.

McKay spared a moment to look up and glare. "Of course I can! Just give me a second!" Looking back to the gate, McKay fingered a small device attached to the bottom most chevron. "Looks like this device prevents the final chevron from locking. Ingenious, really. They don't have to open the DHD or work with crystals at all. It allows them to disable a gate pretty quickly..."

Frustration permeated Ronon. "Can you remove it or not?" he interrupted coldly. He met McKay's equally irritated glare.

"Of course I can." McKay looked back down at the device. "I have a highly simplified yet completely effective solution to this."

"What?" Ronon crossed his arms and stared intently at McKay.

"This." With one smooth motion McKay pulled hard and yanked it free. "You're not the only one who can use brute force."

"Thought I was a barbarian for doing it," Ronon muttered in response.

"You still are," Rodney snapped, "I apply intelligent thought beforehand." Turning the device over in his hands he smiled slightly before he looked up, the annoyance in his expression heightening. McKay pointed emphatically at the DHD and a Marine that stood close by. "Dial!"

Ronon walked over next to Myers who was monitoring Sheppard. "How is he?" Myers sighed. "Not good. His temperature is up. He needs a blood transfusion and surgery as soon as possible."

Ronon nodded. "McKay's got the gate fixed." "That's really good news," Myers stated plainly. Ronon looked over his shoulder as the dialing sequence completed and the gate activated. Nodding once at Myers, Ronon grabbed one end of Sheppard's litter while Myers grabbed the other.

"Atlantis," Teyla immediately established communications. "This is Teyla. We have found Colonel Sheppard and Ronon, but the Colonel is seriously injured. We need Dr. Beckett in the Gate room immediately."

After a moment, Weir's voice answered her. "Teyla, this is Weir. It's good to hear from you, we were getting worried. Dr. Beckett is on his way. The shield is down. Come home."

Ronon and Myers stopped next to Teyla as she nodded in response to Weir's words.

"Understood. Teyla out." She turned and looked at Sergeant Martinson. "Please contact the Daedalus and apprise Colonel Caldwell of the situation... and pass on our thanks." In spite of her worry, she still smiled at the Marine.

Martinson returned her smile. "Will do." His gaze briefly found Sheppard's litter. He looked back at her. "Hope everything turns out okay."

"Thanks for the help." Ronon piped in as he stared down at the sergeant.

Martinson nodded once at him and stepped back as Sheppard's team took the colonel home.

-------------------  
Adrenaline coursed through Carson as he and his medic pushed a stretcher to the Gateroom. Details on the colonel's condition were frustratingly sketchy and truthfully, he had no idea what he was going to find. _Whatever it is, it'll be a doozy... _Carson mused. With the Colonel, things like this were never done half way. He had no doubt that in some way, shape or form, Colonel Sheppard had managed to make a mess of himself and, from the worried tone of Dr. Weir's voice, it was a serious mess.

As he entered the Gateroom, two things immediately caught his eye. The first was Ronon, slightly hunched and looking ragged and exhausted. A bandage graced his left arm, blood already showing through it.

The second was Sheppard; supine and motionless. He was shirtless, dirt and grime covering his body and a thick, already blood soaked bandaged wrapped tightly around his thigh. A man dressed in a Daedalus jumpsuit held and adjusted the colonel's IV before looking over his shoulder and making eye contact with Carson.

Carson stopped right behind the medic and looked down at Sheppard's unconscious and sweating face. A large bruise discolored his right cheek. Carson's eyes traveled downwards, noting the bruises and abuse that covered the colonel's torso. His eyes finally settled on the injured leg. "Ach. Good Lord." Carson immediately steeled himself with professionalism, stepped over Sheppard and knelt. He looked at the medic, noting his rank insignia. "Lieutenant..."

"Myers," the medic quickly supplied as he increased the drip on Sheppard's IV. "Chief medic for the Daedalus, sir."

"Doctor Carson Beckett," Carson pulled his stethoscope from his pocket. "Sir isn't necessary. What's his condition, Lieutenant?"

"GSW to the left thigh with no exit wound. Infection has already set in and from the trajectory the bullet appears to have lodged in the tissue near the femoral artery. I immobilized the leg. Numerous cuts and abrasions, especially on his back. Blunt force trauma as well, I suspect two maybe three broken ribs on his left side. Looks like the bastards whipped and beat him."

Carson looked up, noting the raw anger in Myer's face before the medic continued.

"Started an IV; LR, to stabilize his blood volume. He's had 740 milliliters. BP has held steady at 90/60. Pulse is 110, temp 102."

Carson nodded, mentally cataloging the medic's report and laying out a course of action. He looked up at one of his medics. "Carolyn, love, Lieutenant Myers and I can handle this. Go back to the infirmary and prep the OR for immediate surgery. Update Dr. Biro and have her scrub in as well, I'll need some assistance on this one. The Colonel's blood type is AB positive. Have two units on standby for starters, we may need more. Have X-  
ray on standby as well for a full skull and chest series. I also want a full series on that leg so we can pinpoint the bullet's location. Go."

"Got it, Carson," Carolyn Lansing responded with the familiarity of one who had been on his team since the beginning. She turned and trotted from the Gate room.

Carson sighed and looked around at the personnel in the gate room. Besides Sheppard's team, the normal contingency of guards assigned to gate duty milled close by. At some point, Elizabeth had joined them, but until now had remained tactfully quiet. Carson met her worried eyes.

"Carson?" She ventured, the tone of her voice asking the one question on all their minds.

"He's in a bad way, Elizabeth," Carson responded as he looked away and placed his stethoscope on the colonel's chest. "We'll do our best for him." Waving at one of the soldiers, Carson scooted back and stood. "Easy now. Lift him on the gurney gently. Let's get him to the infirmary." Carson looked back as Ronon positioned himself at the bottom of Sheppard's litter. "Ach, no. You're not lifting, son." He met Ronon's determined glare with an even stare.

"I got it." Ronon rumbled.

"Absolutely not!" Carson raised his voice. "Don't think I don't see that wound on your arm or how exhausted ye are. Ye have an appointment in the infirmary as well, and I'll not have ye aggravating your condition, when there are plenty of other people around here that can help." Carson knew his tone was berating but truthfully sometimes he had to take a hard stand with the stubborn Satedan. _Much like the colonel actually..._ Carson briefly mused.

Teyla stepped in and gently guided Ronon back. After a moment, the black look lifted from the big man's expression and he complied.

Myers took the bottom of the colonel's litter while one of the Gate room guards took the top. Gently, they lifted him onto the stretcher.

"All right, let's move." Carson held Sheppard's IV high with one hand while with the other he took one side of the rolling stretcher along with Teyla. Surprisingly enough, Rodney materialized from nowhere and silently, for once, took the other side along with one of the soldiers. Carson caught Rodney's expression and smiled grimly at the worry he saw. He looked back at Ronon as the started from the Gateroom. "Ronon, I fully expect ye to submit to a full examination." He turned forward again, pretending not to hear Ronon's quiet growl.

"Right." Ronon muttered.

Carson glanced down at Sheppard's face as they quickly exited the Gateroom. His gaze narrowed at Sheppard's quiet groan. "Colonel? Can ye hear me?"

"C... Carson?" Sheppard's whisper was weak. His eyes opened and lazily moved until they found the doctor's face.

"Aye," Carson found a small, reassuring smile. "'Tis me. Just relax, Colonel. We're going to fix ye up in no time." He looked forward again as they approached the infirmary. "Hurts..." Sheppard groaned and squeezed his eyes shut.

Carson sighed. "I know, son. We'll take care of that too, promise." Carson looked down and pursed his lips slightly as Sheppard slipped back into unconsciousness. "Hang in there, lad," he muttered as they quickly entered the infirmary.


	9. Chapter 9

_Sorry for the delay in the update! The US Thanksgiving holiday definitely cut into my writing time. A bit short on this chapter but wanted to get something out for you all. _

_Thanks for the reviews:D_

Carson swiped the back of his hand across his brow, catching the small trickle of sweat that had managed to escape his surgical cap as he walked out of the post-op area of the infirmary. It'd been a long five hours of surgery and he was glad to finally be finished. He stopped, standing quietly in the large archway leading into the main area of the infirmary. Four sets of eyes instantly noted his presence. Carson looked away, sighing. This part of being a doctor could be the best... or the worst aspect of his job, depending on the circumstances. _Today,_ Carson mused as he rubbed his tired eyes, _it's a little of both. _ Pulling in a deep breath, he fortified his strength. No matter the circumstances, he needed to come across strong and reassuring.

Looking back to the expectant faces that never wavered, he pulled off his surgical cap and crossed the room, stopping as Teyla, Elizabeth, Ronon and Rodney all circled him. His gaze immediately found Ronon and flicked over the stark white bandage on his arm. "Dr. Biro cleared ye, I take it?"

Ronon nodded. "Said to take it easy and watch the arm." His gaze narrowed. "Sheppard...?

"How is he?" Elizabeth added.

Carson stared quietly at her expression for a moment. Her stoic mask still showed hints of concern, despite her best effort to be strong regardless of the news he bore. "He's out of surgery," Carson started. "We were able to remove the bullet. The damage was quite extensive though. The gunshot was bad enough but running around on it didn't help at all." Carson looked at Ronon and raised his hand slightly. "Don't say it, lad. I know ye didn't have a choice." He smiled slightly as Ronon nodded silently in return.

"What else?" Teyla questioned.

"The abrasions and cuts on his back were infected but I don't see them posing a problem. He's sporting two broken ribs, but they should heal fine. He's dehydrated and his blood volume is still a wee bit low, but nothing the transfusion he's getting won't fix."

"Then he's going to be okay," Rodney interrupted as he stepped closer to Teyla.

Carson swallowed hard. He'd told them everything positive that he could, but not everything they needed to know. _Damn it..._ He looked down as he felt Elizabeth's light touch on his forearm.

"Carson?"

He pulled in a deep breath. "The infection in his leg is quite extensive. It looks to be a bacterium native to Pegasus, not your garden variety Milky Way bug which would be serious enough. 'Tis a good thing ye got him back here when ye did, I doubt he would've survived another twelve hours without intensive treatment. I've got him on a high dose of broad spectrum antibiotics until we can pinpoint the best treatment for this infection, but..." Carson's voice trailed off as he struggled to find an easy way to go on.

"But?" Ronon came up behind Elizabeth.

Carson focused on Elizabeth. "'Tis an uphill battle for him. I won't lie to ye, the potential for serious complications is pretty high. Osteomyelitis, septicemia..."

"Septicemia?" Teyla cocked her head.

Carson found a small smile. "Sorry, love. Septicemia is a systemic infection where the bacteria gets into his bloodstream and spreads through the body. Osteomyelitis is a bacterial infection of the bone. Both are extremely serious, septicemia is potentially fatal and osteomyelitis can permanently damage the affected bones."

"Will you have to take his leg?" Ronon interrupted.

"Amputate?" Rodney's voice broke as his shocked gaze started on Ronon, before turning to Carson.

Carson sighed. "No... not now. I can't rule it out entirely, especially since I'm not familiar with the little bugger that's giving him so much grief. If he's going to develop septicemia chances are it's too late for amputation to make any difference; and if it's osteomyelitis of the femur..." Carson narrowed his eyes in blunt determination, "I'm not ready to give up on the colonel's chance to recover at least some mobility. Not yet." He fell silent and waited, giving each of them a chance to absorb all that he'd said. Elizabeth turned away and crossed her arms as she paced quietly. Teyla and Ronon were quiet, but Rodney seemed to have trouble keeping it to himself.

"Carson, you have to do something."

Carson glanced at Rodney's uncharacteristically sincere face. His voice was quiet but almost pleading and Carson felt a wave of compassion pass through him. "Aye, we are, Rodney. We're doing everything we can for the Colonel."

"Carson, what are his chances?" Elizabeth headed off any further comment from Rodney. "As John would say, bottom line this for me."

Carson's lips tightened. He hated making prognostications on what if's and possible outcomes. "Elizabeth..."

"Carson, just use your best judgment," Elizabeth interrupted. She smiled thinly at him.

He nodded. "_If_ he doesn't develop any serious complications and _if_ he doesn't end up with permanent damage to his leg, then with extensive physical therapy, he'll make a complete recovery."

Elizaberth nodded. "And if he does develop complications?"

Carson stared at her and shook his head. "I don't know, Elizabeth. There are too many variables. It could go either way, and I can't tell you which. Right now, he has a fighting chance and I'm going to do everything in my power to help him." He sighed. "That's the only guarantee I can make ye."

-----------------------------

_The bare rock felt cold on his cheek. Slowly… lethargically John arched his brows ever higher, until he was finally able to pull his eyelids open. He blinked hard and groaned quietly. Slowly, he lifted his head and blinked again, trying to see something… anything through the pitch darkness that enveloped him. _

_Feeling returned to his body and with it the realization he was flat prone on a hard stone floor. Tendrils of cold pushed up from it, chilling his body and he fought a shiver. He swallowed hard. "Hello?" he croaked. His brows furrowed as his scratchy call echoed off high ceilings. Again, he looked around, helpless to see anything in the endless dark. _

_Palms flat on the stone, he started to push himself up, only to freeze as agonizing pain shot out from his leg and tortured his body. His cry echoed around him as he collapsed back to the floor. He panted hard and tried to relax as the pain faded._

"_Sheppard!"_

_He lifted his head, looking around. The voice was familiar. "Hello?" He called louder._

"_Sheppard!"_

_His gaze, though useless in the dark, narrowed. "Ronon?"_

"_Sheppard! I need help!"_

_His breathing quickened again, this time in response to the note of fear he heard in his teammate's voice; something he'd never heard before. "Ronon! Where are you?"_

"_Not far! Can't hold on!"_

"_Can't hold…" he muttered, his voice trailing off as a cold realization hit him. Slowly, he slid his hand forward on the rock. His whole body tensed as his hand met an edge and pushed off into thin air. He didn't know how, but deep inside, John just knew that barely a foot from him was the sheer edge of a cliff. "Ronon!"_

"_Sheppard!" Ronon's voice cracked with strain. "Help!"_

"_I'm comin' buddy!" Raw determination took over and John pushed himself up from the rock. The pain tore another cry from him but he forced himself up onto his good knee. He tried to pull his bad leg along, but it wouldn't move. John's strangled cry escaped through clenched teeth as he pulled again, trying to move, trying to bring his bad leg with him and get to Ronon, but he couldn't. "Damn it!" He swore loudly and dug his hands into the hard stone, scrabbling with brute force, trying to bend his lagging body to his will. Something held him back… stopped him from getting to his friend. "Ronon!"_

"_Sheppard!" _

_Ronon's voice renewed his battle and John fought the pain that bound him. "Hold on…!" _

-----------------------------

"Doctor Beckett!"

Carson spun, Carolyn Lansing's urgent voice seizing his attention. His eyes widened as he watched the medic practically throw herself on top of Colonel Sheppard, trying to keep him still. "Bloody hell!" He broke into a run, vaguely aware the other four people following him. He reached the bed and grabbed the colonel's arm, decisively protecting his IV from Sheppard's thrashing. He looked up as Ronon stepped around Lansing and grabbed Sheppard's forearms, pinning the colonel to his bed.

"Sheppard!" Ronon's face was scarcely an inch from the colonel's.

"Ronon… NO!" Sheppard's thrashing redoubled.

Carson looked back as Lansing's hands wrapped securely around Sheppard's injured leg, as Rodney grabbed his other leg. He looked down at the colonel's flushed and sweating face. "Colonel… John! Listen to me! You're all right, lad! Calm down!"

"No! Ronon… help… can't MOVE!" Sheppard shouted as his struggling turned desperate.

Ronon grunted against Sheppard's surge of strength, but held fast as did Lansing, but Rodney was thrown back by the strength of Sheppard's good leg.

"Damn it!" Rodney staggered but recovered quickly and grabbed Sheppard's leg. "What the hell is going on?"

"His fever's spiked. Probably septicemia." Carson looked up at Ronon, who slid his hand down to hold Sheppard's arm still.

"Got it, Doc," Ronon muttered.

"Aye," Carson stepped back and immediately headed for the medicine cabinets. He got half way when he was met by Dr. Biro, who had two bottles in her hand.

"Thought you might need these."

She showed him the labels, which Carson scrutinized for a moment before nodding. "Aye, that'll do the trick. Thank you, Susan."

Carson swiftly returned to Sheppard's bed, making a beeline for the IV set, he paused a moment and glanced down at Elizabeth, who was stroking Sheppard's brow and talking softly to him, in spite of his struggles.

"John, it's okay. You're safe. Everyone is safe. It's okay." Elizabeth soothed.

Grabbing the IV port, Carson slowly injected the first, then the second round of medication into the colonel's IV. He stepped back and looked down as Sheppard's struggling weakened before his whole body relaxed into the bed. "That should do it," he muttered. "I gave him a sedative and some medication for his fever." He nodded at Ronon. "Ye can let him go now, he won't be fighting for a while."

Ronon slowly let go and stood.

Carson nodded at Lansing. "Carolyn, I want a blood gas, culture, CBC and fibrinogen. Tell the lab its stat for a probable septicemia. And see what the status is on isolating this bacteria and an effective antibiotic treatment for it." He sighed and met Elizabeth's concerned gaze. "This is definitely a complication," he muttered.

-------------------------------

Elizabeth found there was a finite distance from John's bed that marked the furthest from him she was willing to go, in spite of Carson shooing the whole lot of them back and out of the way. Finding a stool, she sat unable, for the moment, to take her eyes from John. Sweat gleamed on his brow and plastered the short hair around his face to his brow. A small smile barely lifted one side of her mouth as her gaze drifted to the wild spikes on his crown, unmarred by the effects of his fever.

Her smile faded. He was so still and that alone worried her. More often than not, she swore John Sheppard was unable to stay still for more than 2.5 seconds. Like an eight-year-old boy, he was constantly moving. Walking, pacing, fidgeting… it didn't matter he just had to _move. _ But now, he was so still, only the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the constant beep of the monitor, assuring her that he was alive.

Elizabeth sighed. How did he keep ending up like this? _He really is like an eight-year-old!_ Like a kid, John had a singular talent for getting into trouble. But, also like a child, he seemed to have an equally strong ability to bounce back; a knack she prayed he still had now.

She tore her eyes from John as Carson appeared from the far side of the infirmary, a data pad in his hand. She stared at his expression for a moment, feeling a cold clench in her gut at his solemn gaze. Flanked by the other three, Elizabeth stood and walked over to him. "Carson?"

Carson sighed and stared her straight in the eye. "Blood work confirms it," his voice was quiet. "The bacterium is in his bloodstream. It's septicemia."

Elizabeth's eyes slid shut as she swallowed hard against a surge of emotion.

"What can we do, Carson?" Teyla's voice was quiet but determined.

Elizabeth opened her eyes and stared at the doctor as he sighed heavily.

"I've started him on medication to help boost his blood pressure and fend off hypotension. We're watching him closely for toxic shock as well, but what we really need is an effective antibiotic regimen to treat the cause, not just the symptoms." Carson's voice rose slightly, betraying his deep frustration. "We're working to identify antibiotics that work against it, but the process is time consuming. Right now, the colonel is holding his own, but I don't know how long his body can hold out against the stress it's under." Carson shook his head. "He may not have the time to develop any immunity... if it's even possible."

"The database," Rodney suddenly interjected.

Elizabeth stared intently at him. "Rodney?"

Rodney's eyes flicked around the room for a moment, as they often did when his mind was racing. Suddenly, his gaze zeroed in on her. "The Ancients may have something on the microscopic fauna indigenous to Pegasus in the database."

"Aye," Carson agreed, "good thinking, Rodney. If they identified it, then they probably found effective treatment as well. It's worth a shot."

Elizabeth nodded once to Rodney. "Go."

Rodney turned and quickly headed for the door. "Carson?" He called back, "send everything you know about this bug to my lab. I'm going to need everything possible to narrow the search and have a chance at finding anything."

"Aye!" Carson turned away and swiftly crossed the infirmary.

Elizabeth's eyes again locked on John. She could feel Teyla and Ronon close behind her as she walked back to his bed. Reaching out, she gently swiped a clump of sweaty hair back from his brow.

"He's a fighter," Ronon's voice was deep.

"I know," Elizabeth answered.

"He is strong, Elizabeth," Teyla reassured, "and with us around him, he will be that much stronger."

Elizabeth pushed back the churning emotions within her as she nodded slightly and gently sat down on the side of his bed. "I just hope it's enough."


	10. Chapter 10

"_I helped you! Why didn't you help me?"_

"_I tried..." John lifted his head weakly but couldn't sit up. "Ronon..." He stared at the tall Satedan standing over him. _

_"You didn't try hard enough!" Ronon turned away._

"_Ronon?" John's head fell back to the hard stone. "Wait..." _

_Ronon disappeared into the darkness and fear gripped John._

----------------------------------------------------

"Wait..."

Elizabeth forced her eyes open, pushing away the dozing sleep she'd been in. She sat up straighter in her chair and looked down at John, watching as his head thrashed feebly. "John?" She reached out, taking his hand her frown deepening at the hot flush of his skin. Her grip tightened. "John?"

"Don't go..." John's hand stretched open for a moment, before his fingers tightened around hers.

Elizabeth put her other hand over his. "I'm here. I'm not leaving." She glanced over her shoulder as Ronon and Teyla came up to his bed.

"Elizabeth?" Teyla inquired.

Elizabeth shook her head. "Get Carson, Teyla."

"Ronon..." John slurred as he fidgeted weakly, "no..."

Ronon stepped up next to the bed. "Sheppard?"

John's eyes opened, their hazel strength dimmed by sickness. His gaze was glassy, as he slowly looked up. "Ronon?" he whispered.

Elizabeth tore her eyes from John and fixed her gaze on Ronon's expression. The Runner was an expert at keeping everything behind a strong, stoic mask, but as time passed, Elizabeth had learned to read the subtleties that not even he could hide. Trick of the diplomatic trade, she realized and one that served her well. Hints of concern wrinkled the corners of his eyes as he towered over John's bed. Silently, Elizabeth realized the depth of his concern. She glanced at Teyla who nodded once, her own worry much more evident.

From behind Teyla, Carson appeared and walked up next to Elizabeth. He looked down at John and sighed.

Ronon slowly reached out and with a surprising gentleness squeezed John's shoulder. "Here, Sheppard."

"Can't help... sorry..." John blinked heavily as his body sagged back against the bed and he was still.

Elizabeth held tightly to John's hand as she stared at Ronon. His eyes narrowed slightly as concern took a stronger hold on his expression.

"It's okay," he muttered.

Her gaze flicked to his hand as his fingers tightened on John's shoulder.

John's eyelids drooped as he slid back into unconsciousness.

Elizabeth sighed as she held tight to John's limp hand, unwilling to relinquish it just yet. Her gaze fixed on his sweating face. "Carson, we have to do something." She tried to keep the frustration from her determined tone.

"Aye, I know," Carson responded quietly. "Problem is, we don't know what. I'm hitting him with the best antibiotic cocktail I can guess on, but it's marginally effective. What we need is for Rodney to find this damn bug in the database."

Elizabeth looked up at him as Carson ran a frustrated hand through his hair. She nodded quietly, any sort of answer or words of comfort escaping her.

-----------------------------------------

"_Help," John knew his voice was as feeble as his body, but he had to try._

"_John." _

_Again, he lifted his head. "Elizabeth?" His eyes widened as she suddenly appeared through the darkness. Her face was serene, her smile warming him. _

"_We're here with you."_

_He struggled to sit up but to no avail. His weak body refused to cooperate and in the end, John gave in and let himself fall flat to the cold stone floor._

"_You didn't help me!" _

_Ronon's voice echoed in John's ears, he squeezed his eyes shut. _

"_We're here..."_

_Elizabeth's voice pulled at him, kept him from surrendering to helplessness._

"_Not Ronon," he muttered._

"_Sheppard."_

_John opened his eyes and looked straight up into the eyes of his Satedan teammate. "You forgive me?"_

_Ronon's gaze narrowed. "Nothing to forgive."_

_Confusion swept through John. "Then who..." his voice trailed off as Ronon and Elizabeth faded into the darkness. "Wait!"_

"_We're here..." Elizabeth's voice was haunting as she completely disappeared._

_John's eyes darted around the darkness as he pushed down irrational fear. "Who..."_

"_You didn't help me!"_

_John's head jerked towards the enraged voice, his eyes widening as Ronon walked towards him. "But you said there was nothing to forgive!"_

"_Did I?"_

_John's eyes widened as Ronon disappeared, his form replaced by a chillingly familiar figure. The big man laughed loudly at him. "You?" John whispered. _

_Heavy Footsteps just kept laughing._

--------------------------------------------------

"NO!"

Elizabeth flung one hand out, steadying herself against a nearby cart as the force of his arm pushing her away backed up the strength of John's cry. She recovered and reached for him, only to have him savagely jerk his hand away.

From nowhere, Ronon appeared next to her and she stepped back from the bed.

Ronon grabbed John by the shoulders, pinning him to the bed an action that only seemed to fuel John's struggle.

"No! Son... of a... bitch!" John strained against Ronon's hold. "Won't let... hurt...!"

"Bloody hell!" Carson ran up to the opposite side of John's bed. "Colonel? Colonel! Take it easy, lad!" Carson looked over his shoulder, spotting his lead medic. "Carolyn! Soft restraints double quick!"

"Restraints?" Elizabeth felt mildly offended by the thought but the grim look on Carson's face silenced her.

"Aye," he grunted as he held fast to John's arm. "I can't risk any more sedation right now, but he's going to hurt himself if he keeps this up."

"Bastard!" John shouted as his entire body arched off the bed and against Ronon, who held fast to his shoulders.

Carson grabbed several padded restraints from Carolyn and tossed a couple to Teyla, who quickly restrained John's injured leg first, then his other one.

Elizabeth looked away, shaking her head. There was something about restraints, whether right or wrong, that just didn't sit right with her. She knew it was necessary but couldn't fully accept it. _My god, is he this bad?_ She forced herself to look back as Carson finished restraining John's left arm, freeing Ronon to restrain his right arm, but it did nothing to calm John down.

"Won't talk!" The restraints stretched and squeaked in protest to John's strength but held fast. "Not... damn thing..."

Elizabeth couldn't bear to see him like this. She stepped around Ronon and grabbed John's face, holding fast as his head thrashed. "John! Listen to me, you're okay."

"No!"

John's head pushed against her hands but she held on. "John! Stop it! You're safe!" Elizabeth tried to keep her voice from shaking.

Abruptly, the fight left him as his glassy eyes fixed on hers. "...'lizabeth?"

A glimmer of relief found her. She sighed quietly. "Yes. Its okay, you're safe, John. We're all here for you."

"Safe..." John whispered an instant before his eyelids closed as he fell back into unconsciousness.

"Thank god," Carson muttered as he pulled off the nasal canula feeding John oxygen and replaced it with a full mask.

Elizabeth swallowed hard and gently let go of his face. She stared at her hands unbelievingly. "His fever has broke," she looked up, hoping to find reassurance in Carson's face, but her hopes were dashed by his grim expression.

"Aye," Carson muttered. He stared at the monitors for a moment before he grabbed a bottle of medication from a nearby cart, pulled up a specific amount and quickly injected it into John's IV port. "Rapid onset hypothermia; early stages of septic shock. His blood pressure's already dropping. I've given him some medication to try and counteract it, but I don't know how much more of this he can take."

"Will the delusions go away?" Elizabeth asked quietly.

Carson shook his head. "I can't guarantee that. He's not fevered, but in all likelihood he's still going to be altered. We'll keep him in restraints for now." Carson's gaze left hers and found Lansing. "Carolyn, love, warm a couple more blankets for the colonel. We don't need him chilled."

Elizabeth stepped back and looked at Carson, meeting his somber expression with a determined one of her own. "I'm going to go see how Rodney is doing. Let me know if anything changes."

"Aye," Carson answered quietly.

She turned away and drew in a deep breath as she headed for the door.

-------------------------------------------

_Proverbial damn needle in a haystack!_ Sighing in frustration, Rodney rubbed his eyes and straightened in his chair, grimacing at the kink in his back. He'd lost track of how long he'd been staring at the laptop screen, searching for any reference to the bacterium that was slowly killing Sheppard. "Find it in the database," Rodney muttered. "Right." The sound of the door opening behind him grabbed his attention. Rodney turned and watched Elizabeth walk determinedly towards him.

"Rodney? How goes it?" She looked over his shoulder as he turned back and started scrolling through the ancient information again.

"Nothing yet. The Ancients studied the local fauna all right. The database on microscopic organisms is massive. Carson's data only narrowed the parameters slightly. I've got Radek and half a dozen of my team searching as well, but…" his voice trailed off as Rodney shook his head in frustration.

"Rodney, we have to find something soon."

Slowly, he looked up and into Elizabeth's concerned expression. "How is he?"

Elizabeth looked away. "Not good," she whispered. "Septic shock. He's..." she shook her head.

"Damn it," Rodney looked back to the computer screen, "it's got to be here." He stared intently at the scrolling data for a moment before he heard her sigh.

"Do your best."

Rodney nodded slightly and focused on the data, barely hearing the door open and shut as she left. _What is with you, Sheppard?_ Rodney fought irritation flared by his concern. His mind touched on how many times the Colonel had been there for the team… for him. _If it wasn't for Sheppard, I'd be an intellectual slave on the Genii home world… or dead._ Renewed determination filled Rodney. "I didn't go halfway across the galaxy to bring you back only so you could die in Atlantis, Sheppard," he muttered. Taking a deep breath, Rodney resumed his search.

-----------------------------------

The cold permeated his body, chilling him to the bone. John fought against the blackness of unconsciousness as he struggled to open his eyes. _Can't be cold... its summer..._ Slowly, he peeled back his eyelids and looked around, confusion blanketing him. He should've been in a field hospital, but instead of flapping canvas, solid walls and ceilings greeted his gaze. His head turned and his sight found a slim dark haired woman dozing in a chair by his bed. Her clothing was civilian and his confusion only grew. "Where..." he croaked.

Instantly, the woman's eyes opened and she sat up straight. "John?"

Surprise enhanced his confusion. She knew him, knew his name. His mind latched onto the only explanation that made any sense. "Kandahar... Red Cross?" he managed quietly.

Her gaze turned confused for a moment, before worry took over. She reached out and took his hand. "John? It's Elizabeth. You're on Atlantis."

He blinked, her last word triggering his memory. "...'lantis..." Memories washed over him, the strongest raising his panic. He tensed as adrenaline coursed through him. "T'eshii..."

Movement from behind the privacy curtain grabbed his attention. A large man walked towards him, and the fear inside him spiked. Memories of whips, blindfolds... gunshots swept over him. "NO!" His body strained against the restraints as he struggled to free himself... to defend her and everyone there. "Run! He'll hurt you!"

"John!" Elizabeth held tight to his hand. "John, no! You're safe!"

He heard her words but couldn't believe them. How could she say that? His gaze fixed on Heavy Footsteps as the T'eshii Interrogator walked towards him, another T'eshii this one a woman, right behind him.

John tried to push Elizabeth away from him, but the restraints hindered him. He couldn't escape but maybe if the interrogator focused on him, she could get away. "Damn it, Elizabeth! Run!" He watched as another T'eshii injected something into a line in his arm. "Drugs..." He tried to pull away, but a rapid warming feeling spread through his body and stole his strength. "I'm... sorry..." A wave of blackness stormed across his vision and stole consciousness from him.

---------------------------------

Panting slightly, Elizabeth sat on the edge of John's bed. He'd been desperate, his warning edged with fear. She shook her head in confusion. "Carson? What was that?"

Beckett watched John's IV a moment longer before shaking his head. "I don't know. An altered mental state is common in septic shock but nothing like this. He's more than altered, he's delusional."

"Why was he scared of Ronon?" Teyla asked quietly as both she and Ronon stood at the foot of Sheppard's bed.

"He thought Ronon was someone else, a T'eshii," Elizabeth answered. She pursed her lips. The debriefing after they'd brought John back had been sketchy and she still wasn't sure she knew who these T'eshii were, but given John's condition, she took their danger seriously.

"The Interrogator," Ronon muttered. "He thought I was him. That bastard tortured him."

"That'd explain his reaction," Carson nodded. "If he thought..." his voice trailed off as Carson's eyes widened.

Elizabeth stared at him. "Carson? What is it?"

"Delusions..." Carson whispered. He looked at John for a moment, before fixing Elizabeth with an intense stare. "The delusions!"

Puzzled, Elizabeth shook her head. "I don't..."

"Septic shock can alter the victim mentally, but delusions on this scale? Not bloody likely." He waved his hand over John's body. "What if the delusions are not only a symptom of the shock, but of the bacterial infection itself?"

Elizabeth stared at him for a moment before realization hit her. "Rodney's search."

"Aye!" Carson nodded enthusiastically. He tapped his radio call button as he trotted away from John's bed and towards his computer. "Rodney, this is Carson..."

Elizabeth allowed some hope to fill her expression as she looked back at Ronon. "Here's hoping."

"Sometimes," Teyla interjected, "hope is a powerful ally."

One side of Ronon's mouth turned up slightly as he nodded in agreement.


	11. Chapter 11

"He's what?" Rodney reached up, his hand covering the radio earpiece covering his left ear as if it would help him understand Carson's excited rambling. "Delusional?" He rolled his eyes. "Leave it to Sheppard to be melodramatic about all of this..."

"Rodney!" Carson chastised, "the man is very sick!"

"Yeah, I know! Why do you think I'm down here?" Rodney waved absently. "Never mind. So if I understand that chipmunk chatter you've been flinging at me for the last two minutes, delusions are also a symptom of this bacterial infection?"

"Aye!" Carson exclaimed, "I thought I made that clear!"

"Yes, yes!" Rodney snapped. "I get it. I'm on it. McKay out." He reached up and slapped his radio, effectively cutting off any reply Carson may have had. "Delusions..." he muttered as he set to task refining his search parameters. "Is it so hard for people to give me _all_ the pertinent information at once?" he groused. Rodney sighed and as his hands flew over the keyboard doing what he'd call brainless work, his mind wandered. _Damn it, Sheppard, why do you have to be so difficult?_ Rodney's frown deepened. _And why do I have to be so damn worried about you?_ He wondered.

He executed the updated search and letting it run, he straightened, wincing at the crick in his back. _How exactly did Sheppard weasel his way into my world?_ "And why?" Rodney muttered. For most of his professional life... okay for most of his life in general, he'd perfected the art of keeping people away from him... keeping them from getting close to him. The wall he'd built around himself was solid, it served him well and in some ways he was proud of it. Hostility and unpleasantness kept people away, and in a lot of ways, Rodney preferred it. People were unpredictable, complicated and draining; far inferior to the silent companion of pure science. Again, he sighed. But, science was no companion on lonely nights, when for some reason he couldn't fathom, he actually just wanted to talk to someone. As the years passed, deep down he realized that while his work was a large part of his life, it wasn't everything... it couldn't be everything. But, he was so good... his wall was so efficient and so strong that not even he could break it. Somewhere along the way it had morphed from a protective barrier... into a prison.

_Enter Sheppard..._ Rodney mused. He'd treated the colonel just like everyone else, but instead of leaving him alone or avoiding him, Sheppard took his hostility in stride, his easy going manner neutralizing just about every barb Rodney ever tossed his way. It didn't help that Sheppard was smart... really smart. Smart enough to mostly keep up with him... _Smarter than I'll ever admit to anyone..._ Intentionally or not, Sheppard had quietly chipped away at Rodney's wall; weakening it... something he himself had been incapable of doing.

Rodney looked around, feeling the need to reassure himself that he was alone and in the semi-dark quiet solitude, a small and genuine smile turned up his mouth. Somehow, the term "best friend" seemed to fit Sheppard perfectly. Rodney's smile widened slightly. Science dictated that in order to be sure of anything you needed to have a solid set of proven facts and a starting point for comparison. Since he'd really never had a best friend before, he had no basis for comparison. _What the hell_, a light chuckle escaped him as, in a rare moment, he threw science out the window. _He's my best friend._

Rodney's smile faded as determination once again took hold. He looked down at the search results on his laptop. _It has to be here._ He scanned the list, his eyes catching on one particular entry. Rodney stared for a moment before slapping the enter key and bringing up the details on the entry. He quickly scanned the symptoms, and particulars of one very specific and according to the database, rare, bacteria. "Typical," Rodney muttered. "This is Sheppard, it'd have to be something unusual..." he briefly and cynically wondered if he should've added the terms 'uncommon', 'atypical' and 'unexpected' to the original search parameters.

His gaze fixed on one line of text as his mind easily translated the Ancient language into words and sentences he could understand. _Paranoid delusions, due to a specific toxin released by the organism are common in victims in the final stages of shock..._ "Final stages?" he croaked before he read on. _Delusions are almost always followed by coma and death attributed to cardiovascular collapse. _ He punched the down arrow on his keyboard, his gaze skimming the extensive text. "Cure... come on, damn it, there has to be a cure..." Rodney had already stumbled onto several other organisms where no known cure had been identified, but he refused to believe this was another for that list.

"Treatment..." he muttered shaking his head at the foreign medical terms. He hated medicine, roughly comparing it to voodoo, but knew enough of the terminology to know the techniques discussed were unknown or way beyond their current abilities and methods. _Still..._

He opened a connection to one of the computers in the infirmary and smacked his headset. "Carson, its Rodney. I've identified the organism. Still looking for a cure, but I found some information on treatment. I can't make any sense of it, but maybe you can. I'm sending a data file to..." his gaze narrowed, "Argyll." Rodney frowned as he momentarily reflected on the argument he'd recently had with Carson over naming the infirmary computers. He'd set up perfect, identifying names for each station in the infirmary, only to go back later and find Carson had renamed all of them to something or another from Scotland. The first time he'd tried to send something to the infirmary he'd spent the better part of an hour trying to figure out why "Sterling" wouldn't accept a transmission only to find Carson had spelled it 'Stirling.' "Argyll," he snorted, "at least I can spell that one..."

"Copy that, Rodney," Carson responded.

Rodney's fast paced typing hands paused for a moment. "How is he?" His brows quirked at the loud sigh he heard from Carson.

"Not good. The sooner we have a cure, the better."

"Right." Rodney tapped off his radio and continued scanning the database. The information and notes on this organism were extensive, and he resisted the urge to grind his teeth. _Can't write a power flow schematic to save their lives, but had no problem detailing one damn bacterium..._ He jerked his hand away from the keyboard and the scrolling text stopped as his gaze zeroed in on one word. _Cure._ Opening that specific section of the text, Rodney hungrily read the details, his mind devouring any and all facts documented. He sat back, shaking his head as he re-read the last bit of information. "You've got to be kidding me..."

-------------------

Elizabeth never left John's side save once, when Carson had made the decision to intubate him. She stared down at his drawn face, the sound of the ventilator not doing much to comfort her. Somewhere along the way his delusions had quieted, but instead of feeling relief for that, she felt dread as on the heels of his delusions, John had slipped into a coma.

She looked up as Carson quietly walked up behind her. Her brows furrowed. "Carson?"

He sighed. "I've read the treatment information Rodney sent me. I feel like a first year med student. The Ancient's medical technology was so far beyond us..." He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"There's nothing there that can help?" Elizabeth couldn't quite keep the pleading tone from her voice, and from the look on his face, she knew Carson heard it.

"Not directly, no. Based on some of the information, I'm changing the colonel's medication slightly. Hopefully, it'll help stabilize him because his current treatment is rapidly loosing effectiveness."

Elizabeth nodded, the lump in her throat stealing her voice. She felt burning in her eyes and quickly looked away, hoping Carson didn't see it. But, his warm hand on her shoulder told her otherwise.

"We're doing everything we can, Elizabeth," Carson said quietly.

"I know," she whispered. She was starting to feel like she was sitting a deathwatch... She blinked hard, pushing away the negativity and looked up as Teyla and Rodney left their chairs and walked over to join them. Neither one had a chance to say anything as the infirmary doors opened and Rodney burst through them. He quickly sidestepped a cart and ran straight for them.

"I found the cure!" His gaze settled on John. "Oh my god..."

Carson waved at the data pad in Rodney's hands. "Give it to me. We don't have a lot of time."

Elizabeth stared for a moment at the shocked expression on Rodney's face before she reached up and squeezed his forearm. "Rodney?"

Rodney inhaled and blinked. "Right. Well, ah, one slight problem. We can't synthesize it."

"Bloody hell," Carson ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

Rodney tapped a couple keys on his data pad. "Apparently, the bacterium in question is rare, only occurring on a handful of known planets including..." he looked at her expectantly.

"M44-296," Elizabeth whispered, naming the planet John had been held captive on.

"Bingo!" Rodney pointed at her emphatically.

Elizabeth focused on Rodney's face. "Okay, so what do we need to do?"

Rodney's attention returned to his data pad. "The plant that produces a cure is about as rare. It only grows on a half dozen planets in the galaxy, including, fortunately, this one. But, when I say rare, I mean... well, rare. According to the Ancients, it only grows in one remote location on the southern continent." Rodney grimaced. "We haven't even flown a jumper over that part of the continent, much less explored it on foot. But," He turned the data pad around to face her. A large, detailed picture of a thorny flower, roughly resembling a thistle dominated the screen. The rough leaves were dark green and the flower was coral red. "At least we know what it looks like and," He punched a key and abruptly the picture was replaced with a specific set of coordinates, "we have a good idea where to look."

Elizabeth sighed. "I don't see where we have any choice but to go find it."

"I will accompany you," Teyla interjected. "While we have not explored that continent, my people are very familiar with the wilds of the northern continent."

"Me too," Ronon stepped closer to McKay. "You run into any trouble, you might need my help. Besides, I'm no good at sitting around waiting."

Elizabeth nodded at the three of them. "Take a team of Marines and whatever personnel and supplies you need. You have a go."

"Going." Rodney turned and briskly headed for the door, Ronon and Teyla right behind him.

She smiled slightly and watched them go. John's team. She had a moment of confidence. If anyone could find this plant or this cure, they could.

-----------------------------

_It was so dark. John looked around his spirit strangely calm. Somehow, he'd escaped but he didn't know how. Deep inside, he knew the others were safe and he drew immeasurable comfort from that. He took a step and stopped. Pain didn't plague him, his leg was healed... he was walking. He took another step and quietly smiled. _

"_John."_

_He turned towards the gentle voice, confusion breaking his tranquility. She'd been dead for ten years..._

"_John."_

"_Mom?" His eyes widened as the darkness parted and his mother stood before him, a soft smile gracing her face. He swallowed hard and stared for a moment, before he swiftly walked to her. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, words escaping him, but somewhere inside he realized there were no words that could do any justice to what he was feeling at that moment. _

_He felt her pull away and he released her. He stared at her as she reached up and wiped a finger along his cheek._

"_You never cry," she said quietly._

_John swallowed. "I did at your funeral," he managed. _

_She smiled tenderly for a moment but said nothing. She took hold of his hand and turned. "Come with me, John."_

_He nodded, held tight to her hand and followed. "Where are we going?"_

_She didn't answer._

-----------------------------------

"Carson!" Elizabeth jumped back as the monitor over John's head started beeping alarmingly.

Carson dashed around the privacy curtain, took one look at the monitor and swore. "He's crashing! Carolyn!" He stepped around Elizabeth and ripped the blankets off John's body. "Elizabeth stand back!"

She managed to shuffle out of the way in spite of the pain and dread that nearly paralyzed her. Elizabeth stared at John's pale face for a moment before a high pitched keen from the monitor assaulted her ears.

"Damn it! He's arresting! Crash cart!" Carson jumped up on the bed frame and started chest compressions as Lansing whipped aside the privacy curtain and pulled a crash cart close to John's bed. Carson looked at one of the nurses. "Lidocaine bolus to his IV stat."

Elizabeth backed up another step and ran into a stout column. She leaned against it, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she fought a sense of sheer terror inside. He couldn't die, not now. Not after everything they'd been through.

"He's in v-fib!" Carson jumped off the bed, punched a button on the defibrillator and grabbed the paddles. "Charging... clear!" He barked before slapping the paddles on John's chest and shocking his heart.

Elizabeth flinched and turned her head away as John's body arched off the bed before he fell limp again.

Carson stared at the monitor and shook his head. "Damn it, Colonel, fight!" Again, he stabbed the charge button on the defibrillator. "Clear!"

------------------------------

_John stopped, pulling his hand from his mother's grip as something called to him._

"_John?" _

_He looked over his shoulder before looking back at her. The serenity inside him faded as a sense of wrongness swept over him. "I can't," he shook his head. "Mom, I can't go with you." _

"_Yes, you can," she insisted._

_John backed a step away. "I can't." _

_She was still for a long moment before she finally smiled and nodded. Taking one step towards him, she reached out and gently stroked his cheek. "So much like your father."_

_John's hand came up and claimed hers. "Mom..."_

_"Shh," she chastised gently. "You don't have to say it. A mother always knows." She backed away from him, breaking her hold on his face. "I love you, John."_

_He watched her fade into the darkness. "Love you too, mom." Swallowing hard, John turned and headed back the direction he came from..._

--------------------------

"Hold..." Carson stared intently at the monitor as one blip crossed the screen, then another. "Come on, lad, ye can do better than that..." he muttered, nodding as another blip appeared and on it's heels another. Suddenly, the beeping from the monitor took on a regular beat. "Sinus rhythm. Carolyn?" He looked down as the medic pressed her fingers into John's neck.

Carolyn nodded. "Strong pulse."

Carson sighed deeply and set the defibrillator paddles on the cart. Relief washed through him as he looked up at Elizabeth and nodded. He looked back down as one of the nurses reattached John to the ventilator. Carson grabbed the end of a blanket and pulled it up over John's chest. "Crap, son, don't scare me like that," he muttered. He looked up at his nurse. "Sheila, I want vitals every fifteen minutes for the next two hours and keep him on the Lidocaine." He sidestepped the crash cart and slowly headed for Elizabeth.

Carson scrutinized her expression as he walked towards her. He couldn't remember ever seeing her so pale and so clearly scared. Put through experiences that would make the most hardened leader cringe, Elizabeth, Carson decided, had one of the strongest spirits of anyone he'd ever met. But, she hadn't left the colonel's side through all of this. _Not eating... not sleeping..._ Inwardly, Carson berated himself for not noticing.

Pausing, he reached out and snagged a nearby stool and carried it with him as he approached her. "Elizabeth?" He set the stool down next to her. "Sit down, lass, before ye fall down." He smiled gently as a look of blunt determination crossed her face, before she smiled thinly and slowly sat.

"John?" She looked up at him.

Carson found a small reassuring smile. "Stable for now. I don't know how much more he can take though. Rodney had best hurry and find that damned plant." His smile faded as she looked away and silently nodded. "Elizabeth, I have two orders for you."

She looked back up at him and arched an eyebrow. "Orders?"

"Aye," Carson stared evenly back at her. "One, get something to eat. Two. Get some sleep. I'll contact ye if anything changes. I promise."

"Carson..."

He shook his head. "Don't 'Carson' me, Elizabeth. Ye are exhausted. I'm the CMO and I'm pulling rank. Go."

Her lips pressed into a thin line before she stood. "The same could be said for you, Dr. Beckett."

"Aye," one side of Carson's mouth turned up. "I'll catch a few winks in a bit, when I'm sure the Colonel is stable." He pointed at the door. "Now, go." He watched her retreating back for a moment before turning and walking back to John's bed. Carson sighed deeply as he stood next to the colonel and watched the steadily beeping monitor for a moment. He looked down at John's face. "Ye better fight, son," he said softly. "Doctor's orders."


	12. Chapter 12

_The reviews have been fantastic! Thank you all so much for reading my story and leaving reviews. I'm so glad so many people are enjoying it:) Now, where were we?..._

Rodney stared out the jumper's window at the dense vegetation that passed swiftly below them. He grimaced. _We have to find this plant in that?_ "Landing could be ahh... a problem."

"We're still a ways off from the coordinates," Miller, the pilot, answered absently. "Hopefully, we'll find a clear spot."

Rodney stared at the HUD, his hands flying over the controls as he widened the display parameters. He squinted slightly. "Looks like mountains coming up in the distance. The target area is on the other side."

"Got that," Miller answered as he gradually pulled the jumper into an ascent to an elevation that would clear the peaks.

Rodney looked through the half transparent HUD display at the rapidly approaching peaks. His gaze refocused on the display as he widened the parameters even further. "Interesting," he muttered.

"What?" Ronon asked.

"The mountains," Rodney answered as he scanned for climate changes. "Beyond that mountain range you see there is another one. It's far enough off we can't see it, but it's there. Both of them curve slightly and between the two they form a semi-circle with the only land access to the, for lack of better term, 'valley', is facing away from the ocean." Rodney scrutinized the readings further. "According to the scans, the climate is vastly different within that area." He smiled slightly in wonder. "The natural barriers have created a micro-climate where the terrain and the environment within that area is drier and sparse. It's more of a prairie or grassland than a jungle."

"Sorry I asked," Ronon muttered.

Rodney shot him a cold glare before refocusing on the HUD. "Landing shouldn't be a problem. We should be able to hit the coordinates right on." He looked out the jumper windshield as Miller pulled the jumper into a steeper ascent. White capped, rugged peaks passed under them.

"These mountains are different than the ones my people have found on the mainland," Teyla commented quietly.

"They're younger," Rodney answered. "The mountains on the mainland are round and smooth because they're really old. Geologically speaking, these mountains are young and haven't been worn to a smooth surface yet." Rodney looked around. "Bet there's volcanic activity on this continent as well."

"Impressive," Ronon commented as the jumper passed over a glaciated jagged peak.

"And very beautiful," Teyla added.

Silently, Rodney was impressed too. The Canadian Rockies had peaks like this, but he had to admit, it never got old. He quickly fell back behind his acerbic mask. "So was Mt. Saint Helens," he muttered.

"Mt. Saint..." Teyla started.

"I'll tell you about it later," Miller interrupted as he slowly descended into the valley.

Rodney looked over his shoulder at the six Marines sitting quietly in the back of the jumper. Stoic, each one was heavily armed, prepared for whatever they might encounter. He sighed and reached down next to his seat, grabbing the datapad he'd set there as Miller eased the jumper to the ground.

"Right on target," Miller smiled at Rodney.

Rodney stared icily back. "Want a medal? You had the coordinates for the navigational computer. A ten year old could've done it."

Miller rolled his eyes. "You're welcome."

Rodney stood turned and held up his data pad. "Okay, listen up. This is what we're looking for. It's called the Alenius plant. I have no idea how much antitoxin one plant yields, so ideally we want at least four or five specimens. More would be better. Alive would be ideal. Let's go." Rodney turned back to his seat, and grabbed a Life Signs Detector. He followed Teyla and Ronon as the big Satedan was the first one out the back of the jumper.

Rodney poked a couple buttons on the LSD. "All kinds of life forms registering. Nothing close by though."

"Sounds about right for a wilderness," Lieutenant Harrison commented.

Rodney ignored him. "Okay, I think the best thing to do is..."

"Set a perimeter," Harrison interrupted as he stared at his squad. "We'll start here then shift the perimeter if we have to in order to widen the search. Keep your eyes peeled for that plant. If you spot it, radio Dr. McKay. Stay within sight of each other and I want radio contact every fifteen minutes. Move out." Without looking at Rodney, Harrison and his Marines fanned out in an organized pattern around the jumper.

"Right," Rodney sighed. He watched Teyla team up with one of the Marines and move off to the south before he smiled tensely at Ronon. "Guess you're with me."

"Yep," Ronon answered a hint of amusement touching his eyes. "I lost the draw."

Rodney's forced smile held every note of his irritation. "Funny." He turned away and started slowly walking through the knee high grass. "With any luck, Alenius is in bloom," he muttered as he scanned the ground around them. "Much easier to spot with bright red flowers." Rodney took a moment to glance at his silent companion. A light bandage still graced Ronon's arm, reminding Rodney of Ronon's near miss encounter with the T'eshii. "They're pretty bad, aren't they?" Rodney pointed at Ronon's arm when the big man stared at him blankly. "The T'eshii, they're pretty bad."

Ronon nodded slightly. "Yep." He looked around his feet. "Should've told you about them before."

Rodney turned away and resumed searching. "Yes, well... yes, but, that's all past now..."

"McKay?" Ronon asked, his voice puzzled.

Rodney sighed loudly. "Okay fine, I'll just say it. You're not the first one to make a mistake! Just don't... obsess over it."

"Obsess?" Ronon's brows arched. "You should talk."

Rodney let annoyance into his expression as he stared back. "Oh fine. I try to be nice... never mind. Just look for the Alenius." He turned away and continued searching. _Fine, Rodney, that's what you get..._

"McKay."

Ronon's voice was quiet. Rodney turned and stared neutrally at him. "What?"

Barely recognizable, the corners of Ronon's eyes crinkled slightly and one side of his mouth subtly turned upward. He held Rodney's gaze for a moment, before turning away and resuming his search.

Rodney stared at him for a second before he too started looking for the Alenius again. _You're welcome._

-----------------------------------------------------------

_He kept walking._

_The sheer darkness robbed him of his sight, but something urged John on and demanded that he go forward. So, he continued, one foot in front of the other and each time his foot met solid ground instead of some unseen cliff part of him was sure he'd fall off of. _

_For a while he'd tried to call out, hoping someone would answer him. But no one did. Hoarse, he'd fallen silent, focusing on walking as he brooded, his mind restlessly jumping from question to question and thought to thought. What was pulling him? Compelling him not only to walk but to walk this direction? Behind him, somewhere, he'd left his mother._

_John closed his eyes for a moment and stopped walking. Mom. Why had he left her? Why had she let him leave? Again, deep inside him something urged him, demanded that he resume his trek and he felt he had to comply. He resumed walking, the darkness shrouding him like a warm blanket as his mind struggled to find answers._

------------------------------------------------------

Elizabeth had to admit the sleep, as restless as it'd been, and the hot shower both did wonders for her. The apple in her hand felt cool as she walked through the infirmary doors. She stopped and stared at John for a moment. Nothing had changed. He was deathly still; the even hiss of the respirator and the steady beeping of the monitor over his head, the only thing reassuring her he was still alive. She sighed quietly, crossed to the chair by his bed and sat. Leaning back, she took a small bite of her apple. Movement to her left caught her attention and she turned her head, finding a small smile for Carson who walked towards her.

Elizabeth nodded to herself as she took in his appearance. The circles under his eyes had faded some and he looked slightly refreshed... or at least he no longer looked like he was going to collapse on the spot. "Carson," she greeted him as he stopped next to her. "How is he?"

Carson sighed. "The same, although I have to say the medication changes I've made as a result of the data Rodney found have made a difference. For the moment, he's holding his own, but I don't know how long that will last. The colonel's strong and otherwise healthy but the body can only take so much." He looked down at her. "Ye look better, lass."

Elizabeth arched a brow. "So do you."

Carson chuckled lightly. "Aye. Caught a few winks myself."

Her smile faded. "I never realized..." Elizabeth swallowed. "I mean he's..." she slapped her free hand on her thigh in frustration. "I even miss the constant snarking between him and Rodney for god sake!"

"Aye," Carson agreed. "He's part of the backbone of this place, for sure." His smile returned as he looked down at her. "Much like ye are, Elizabeth."

Her reciprocal smile was thin and she said nothing. She stared apathetically at her apple.

"Is that all ye are eating?" Carson questioned.

"I'm not that hungry, Carson," Elizabeth tried to reason but deep down, she knew he'd never accept her answer.

"Ach," Carson waved vigorously at the apple. "Ye finish that and I'll have Carolyn bring ye a sandwich. I expect ye to finish it as well."

Elizabeth shook her head. Carson's voice had that tone again; the one that left no room for argument, but she tried anyway. "Carson..."

"No. I'll not have ye turning into skin and bones on my watch. Ye eat it or I put you in a bed on an IV."

Elizabeth smiled slightly. She was far from malnourished to the point where Carson would take such drastic measures, but the meaning of his words was clear. The topic was closed. "Okay."

"Okay." Carson repeated. "If my mum saw ye, ye would never leave the table for two months." He smiled warmly and walked up to John's bed.

Elizabeth nibbled on the apple as her gaze fixed on John's pale face. The fruit lost its appeal, but since Carson was nearby, she managed to finish it anyway. She glanced at her watch anxious for the hour to pass and for the status report from Rodney's team. It'd been ten thousand years and there was a chance the plant was extinct on this world and others. She closed her eyes and silently prayed that wasn't the case.

---------------------------------------

"Damn it," Rodney muttered as he and Ronon once again shifted their section of the perimeter further north. They'd already moved their search grid three times, moving to the point where the jumper was a distant spot on the horizon and widening the perimeter extensively. The flat plains were massive and part of Rodney had a sinking feeling it'd take them far too long to find the Alenius plants even if they still survived. He didn't have a time frame, but inside Rodney knew time was running out for Sheppard. They had to find this plant soon and that urgency pushed him to achieve. He searched to the very extent of the perimeter, going beyond what Harrison would approve of and predictably, Ronon silently followed his lead.

"What?" Ronon asked.

"This!" Rodney waved his hands emphatically. "This is like trying to find a needle in a haystack!"

Ronon just shrugged, the analogy clearly lost on him. "What choice do we have?"

"None!" Rodney snapped. "That's the frustrating part!" He ripped his LSD from his TAC vest pocket. "There has to be some way to calibrate..." Rodney's thoughts derailed as he stared at ten or more blips on the screen, all converging on the search party. "Oh no."

"What?" Ronon demanded as he stepped around behind Rodney and looked over the doctor's shoulder. "What are those?"

"I have no idea, but they're closing on us." Rodney looked up, scanning the horizon intently, jumping slightly at the sound of Ronon drawing and charging his gun. "I don't see them."

"Me either." Ronon's voice was tense. "Didn't you see them before?"

"No!" Rodney snapped. "They just... appeared." He tapped his headset. "Harrison, this is McKay. I'm picking up a large group of life forms moving towards us."

"McKay, this is Harrison. Can you be more specific? And I can barely see you! What the hell are you doing so far off?"

Rodney rolled his eyes upwards for a moment. "Can people _not_ get it through their thick heads that LSD's cannot distinguish between life forms?" He tapped his radio back on. "I'm trying to find this damn plant and no, I can't be more specific. I just know that there are at least ten and they're headed for Ronon and myself."

"Copy that," Harrison answered. "All teams, fall back to the jumper immediately."

Rodney quickly turned towards the jumper, only to be pulled to a stop by Ronon's strong grip. "What?"

"If they're predators, running is the last thing you want to do," Ronon answered Rodney's annoyance with an even reply.

Rodney swallowed. "Right. Evisceration by some wild Pegasus predator is not high on my list of 'must do's'." He pulled his nine mil and held it tightly to his side with one hand, while he watched the LSD with the other. He scrutinized the display. "Oh damn it!"

"What?" Ronon tensely raised his gun.

"We're cut off from the jumper." Rodney looked up, but the scenery that met his gaze was empty. "I still don't see them!"

Ronon grunted. "Nope."

"Okay, _that_ is just creepy!" Rodney tapped a couple keys. "It's not the device. Something _is_ there."

From over the sights of his gun, Ronon's dark eyes narrowed. "We're being hunted."

"What? How do you know?" Rodney looked around again, all the while trying to keep the panic in his gut at bay. His wandering gaze stopped and fixed on Ronon's tense but quiet one.

"I just know."

"Piece of information I did _not_ need to know!" Rodney started backing away from the approaching blips. He smacked his headset. "Harrison! We're cut off! We're in a lot of trouble here!"

"Copy that!" Harrison immediately responded. "Hang in there, we're coming! All teams converge on McKay and Ronon's position."

Rodney froze as his gaze zeroed in on movement. "Oh god..." He tensed as Ronon stepped in front of him, but over the big man's shoulder, Rodney could see a large animal moving silently through the grass. The browns of the knee-high, late summer grass provided the perfect camouflage for the animals and with the apparent gift of stealth inherent in most carnivores, he and Ronon had not been able to see them until they were dangerously close by. About four foot high at the shoulder, the silent carnivore loosely resembled a lion and apparently had the hunting instinct to match. Great, long canine teeth protruding from each side of its mouth reminded Rodney of a Saber tooth tiger and long claws extended from each of the animal's feet. Its coat was light brown, mottled with darker spots and a shock of white hair that ran from the underside of its jaw, down its chest and presumably all along its belly. Much like lions, this 'pride' apparently hunted as a group effectively isolating and snaring their prey.

Rodney turned in a circle and each direction was blocked. He shoved his LSD into his vest pocket and firmly gripped his gun with both hands, resisting the urge to wipe his sweaty palms on his pants. "Got any ideas?" he whispered. Rodney swallowed hard as what could only be characterized as snarling came from a nearby animal. The snarl turned into a low keen, much like the sound his cat made when it was really pissed at him. _Except this cat is at least two hundred pounds..._

"Don't run." Ronon stepped slowly around and pushed himself back to back with Rodney.

"Oh, brilliant!" Rodney spat quietly but emphatically. "What else, Einstein?"

"Don't make any sudden movements and don't fire until you have to."

Rodney swallowed hard as his breathing quickened. He pushed himself reassuringly against Ronon. He knew the Satedan would go down fighting before anything would blindside him, but could he say the same for Ronon's back? "Great. You sure you want me watching your six?"

"No choice." Ronon's voice was distracted as he slowly circled left, forcing Rodney to move right to stay in position.

"There is that." Rodney muttered.

"McKay?" Ronon's voice was gruff.

"Yeah?" Rodney resisted the urge to turn his head and loose sight of the felines closing in on them.

"You'll do fine."

"Sure. Whatever you..." Rodney's eyes widened as on of the "cats" leapt from the grass straight at him. "Shit!" He fired repeatedly, as the sound of Ronon's blaster mixed with the loud shots from his gun.

_Cliffie!! Bwahahahaahaha!!_

------------------------


	13. Chapter 13

_Glad you're still enjoying the story :) I'm thinking one more chapter after this will do it:D_

As if he was staring through a long tunnel, the only thing that occupied Rodney's vision was the sight of a two hundred pound feline launching itself at him. The concussion of his nine mil shook his hands, but he kept firing, unconsciously stepping back as the big predator fell to a bloody heap at his feet. He had no time to react as movement in his peripheral vision grabbed his attention.

Rodney lifted his gun and shifted right, feeling Ronon compensate for his movement. He had no idea how many bullets he had left, but at this point he tried not to think about it. "Harrison!" He shouted at the top of his lungs as he opened fire on the next attacking predator. Four shots exploded from the gun before he was suddenly met with a sickening clicking sound from it. Dread filled him as the wounded feline shifted its weight and launched itself at him. "Oh God!" Rodney barely had time to raise his arms before a forceful weight propelled him backwards and into Ronon. He slammed to the ground as pain seared through his left arm.

The sickening carrion breath of the animal was almost more than Rodney could bear. He grabbed its neck, desperately trying to keep its mouth from his throat. The weight of the beast pinned his legs to the ground, rendering him nearly helpless.

Instantly, rational thought fled him as instinct, fueled by terror took hold. He could see the cold clarity of death in the animal's eyes, smell the rotting flesh of its victims on its breath... Rodney's grip tightened as he pushed with all his strength against the animal, tuning out his pain as the feline's claws dug deeper into his arm. Somewhere a voice reached him...

"McKay!"

Then... it was gone. The great, vicious weight that crushed him was hauled away. Rodney gulped and looked up, just in time to see Ronon wrap his arms around the feline's body and with an animalistic shout of his own, throw his weight backwards, taking the predator with him.

Gunshots echoed behind him, but Rodney only saw Ronon. He watched as the Satedan hit the ground, twisted and swiftly drove a knife into the beast's neck. Only then, did the gunshots register with Rodney. He looked around, watching as Harrison, Teyla and the Marines either shot or drove away the remaining animals. A burning in his chest reminded him to breathe and Rodney pulled in one heaving breath after another. The pain in his arm redoubled and he looked down, fighting the urge to be sick at the blood that met his gaze. "Oh no..." He tore his eyes from the wound and looked at Ronon who sat with his hands on his knees, drawing in great loud breaths.

After a moment, Ronon crawled to his side. "You okay?"

"Rodney! Ronon!" Teyla ran the last short distance to them as the Marines quickly circled the two men and set a strong perimeter.

Rodney refocused his attention on Ronon. "Do I LOOK okay?" his voice cracked, "I'll probably get Pegasus Rabies from this! Or..." Rodney felt the distinct flavor of panic, "that damn bacterium!" He looked down, his stomach doing flip-flops. "Oh god, I'm bleeding..." His breathing turned rapid and shallow as he felt himself start to shake. From the corner of his eye, he saw Teyla kneel beside him before pulling a bandage from her vest.

"It does not look that serious, Rodney," she reassured. She firmly wrapped the bandage around his arm, eliciting a hiss from him.

"What...Ow!" Rodney closed his eyes as he suddenly felt light headed.

"McKay? Take it easy," Ronon rumbled, his voice tinged with a note of annoyance.

_Okay, he's mad. That's so not helping..._ Rodney fought his queasy stomach as he tried to get control.

"Rodney, you must slow your breathing," Teyla urged quietly. "You are safe now."

_God, she sounds like she's talking to a three year old!_ Rodney swallowed hard, then again. _Get a grip, McKay, this isn't helping! _"I'm okay... just... give me a second..." Truthfully, he needed more than that, but Rodney took what he could get and after a few minutes, felt he could open his eyes with confidence that he wouldn't lose his lunch. He glanced at Ronon, who crouched next to him, looking as cool and as unfazed as usual. Rodney met Ronon's gaze as the Satedan nodded slightly at him. "Thanks," Rodney muttered, "really. I owe you one."

"More than that, but who's counting?" Ronon's reply was deadpan even if humor vaguely creased his expression.

"Funny," Rodney snapped feeling his reliable level of irritation at the whole world return. "Might I point out how many times I've saved everyone including you from certain death?"

"Rodney," Teyla interrupted, "can you stand?"

Rodney felt the adrenaline draining from him. "Of course I can stand. It's my arm, not my leg!" He lifted his good arm towards Ronon. "A little help here?"

"Thought you said you could stand," Ronon answered.

"Stand yes! Get up? No!" Rodney waved his hand vigorously at Ronon. "If you don't mind?"

Ronon stood before extending his hand to Rodney and pulling him to his feet.

Rodney held his injured arm close to his side as he looked around. "Where are they?" His gaze fixed on one young Marine who held an LSD.

"They're moving off, sir," The Marine answered. "Think we scared them away."

Rodney pulled his LSD from his vest, and stared at the blips moving away from them. "You're right, they are." He ignored the annoyed look the Marine flashed at him, but a clicking sound next to him did capture his attention. He looked sideways as Teyla expertly ejected the depleted clip from his discarded nine mil before loading a new one. She held the weapon out to him grip first.

"Rodney," she smiled slightly.

Rodney shoved the LSD in his vest, freeing up his good hand. He took the gun. "I better not have to use this again," he commented as he holstered the gun. He flashed a brief smile at her. "Thanks."

Teyla nodded back before turning away and scanning the ground around her. "We must find the Alenius." She insisted.

"Tell me something I don't know," Rodney answered as he again pulled out his LSD, determined to keep a watchful eye on it. _Not being ambushed again!_ He tried to tune out the pain in his arm, and the warm blood that soaked the bandage as he walked towards Ronon.

"Hold on," Harrison's voice stopped them, "let's do this right. Teams of two and we move the perimeter together." He glared pointedly at Rodney. "No one wanders off alone, got it?"

Rodney stared coldly back at him for a moment before turning away and resuming his search. He silently walked beside Ronon, refusing to think about his arm, and pushing down a sudden nauseous feeling. Rodney swallowed and scanned the area around him.

"Sure you don't need to sit down?" Ronon asked.

Rodney pulled in a deep breath. "No. Fine." His gaze narrowed as they approached a knoll in the otherwise flat plain. He stared at it a moment, before walking around to the lee, shaded side. He froze, blinking, as at first he couldn't believe what his eyes were seeing.

Nestled against the knoll and free of the light hungry grass, a delicate coral colored flower stood out against the dark soil surrounding it. The Alenius plant wasn't alone as several others in various stages of bloom, grew nearby, all within the shade of the hillock.

"That's it," Rodney whispered. He smacked his radio. "Harrison, this is McKay! We've found it!" Adrenaline surged through him, straining his already taxed body. Darkness crept into his vision, as his eyes focused on the Alenius bloom and nothing else.

"McKay?"

Ronon's voice sounded distant as numbness flowed through Rodney. His vision swam and his eyes slid shut as his knees buckled. He never felt Ronon catch him.

---------------------------------

The first thing Rodney was aware of was the hard, cool surface under his back and the faint vibration that went through it and into his body. He pulled in a deep breath and groaned quietly.

"He is waking up."

_Teyla._ Rodney swallowed and peeled his eyes open his gaze focusing on Teyla's reassuring face. His eyes moved past her and focused on the ceiling over her head. "Jumper?" He croaked.

Teyla smiled and nodded. "We are on our way back to Atlantis, Rodney. Your wound was more serious than we first realized. We have managed to slow the bleeding, but you must be still until Dr. Beckett has a chance to examine you."

Rodney blinked, trying to clear the fog from his head and think straight again. "Alenius?"

Teyla's smile widened. "We have harvested several plants from where you found the first ones and a few nearby locations, all of them alive."

Rodney closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the pull of unconsciousness. He fought it.

"Rodney?" Teyla's voice found him.

He slowly opened his eyes. "Sheppard?"

Teyla's smile faded. "His condition is grave. But, we now have the means to help him."

"Final approach to Atlantis," Miller's voice drifted back from the cockpit. "Drs Beckett and Patterson are waiting for us in the jumper bay."

Rodney couldn't fight the warm darkness that courted him as his eyes slid shut.

--------------------------

Awareness came to Rodney again, but this time the voice was different.

"Rodney? Open ye eyes. Come on now, son, open them."

The rolling burr of Carson's voice pulled at him, and Rodney complied.

Carson smiled. "There ye are. Ye lost a fair bit of blood, Rodney, but nothing we can't fix. We'll have ye up and about and snapping at the nurses in no time."

Rodney stared at the rapidly passing ceilings of Atlantis as Beckett's team pushed his stretcher down a hallway presumably towards the infirmary. His gaze momentarily fixed on the IV bag swaying gently above and left of his head. "Carson. The Alenius…"

"Aye," Carson interrupted, "Dr. Patterson is distilling the antitoxin as we speak. The Ancients left very specific instructions on the most effective process. Shouldn't be long now. Ye just relax. We'll take it from here."

Rodney managed a small nod as he closed his eyes, shutting out the moving ceiling, which was only making him dizzy. "Sheppard?" he whispered. He could've sworn he heard Carson sigh.

"The sooner, the better."

---------------------------------------

_The blackness around him gradually started giving way to gray as John kept walking. Faint voices…. noises reached his ears, their unique sounds blending together in a quiet buzz, punctuated occasionally by recognizable words._

"_Stabilized…."_

"_Effective…"_

"_Improving…"_

_He quickened his pace, something inside urging him to move faster. The inky blackness disappeared completely, replaced by a light gray almost fog like surrounding. It wasn't all that bright, but compared to the pitch darkness he'd been lost in, this was as bright as day. John squinted, subconsciously raising his hand to shield his eyes. He stopped before slowly turning in a circle, trying to identify the buzzing noises that seemed to come from everywhere.  
_

"_John?"_

_He spun, his attention zeroing in on that one unmistakable word that distinguished itself above the din. He stared intently in the direction of the voice. _

"_John."_

_Confidence surged through him. Holding the voice strong in his mind, he walked towards it…_

"He's coming around."

John struggled against the unconsciousness that seemed loath to release him. The gray haze in his mind slowly receded as he pushed himself away from it and towards awareness.

"John, can you hear me?"

_Elizabeth_. As consciousness returned to him, he could hear the fatigue, laced with worry in her voice. He opened his mouth to reassure her but no sound came from it. Instead, he pulled in a deep breath and swallowed against the raspy dryness of his throat.

"John, open your eyes."

_Simple enough…_ but John found it harder to do than he thought. His eyelids felt glued together. He raised his eyebrows, pulling at his unwilling eyelids until they acquiesced. The bright lights around him tore a groan from his throat as he let his eyes close again. "…lizbth…" he managed. A deep, but light toned sigh followed his words.

"Welcome back," Elizabeth whispered.

John felt a warm grip on his hand tighten. "…back…" He took a deep breath as unconsciousness overpowered him.

--------------------------------


	14. Chapter 14

_Well, here we are, the last chapter. I hope you've enjoyed the story! I have more ideas so it certainly won't be my last, although I haven't decided if I'm going to post in progress stories anymore or only completed ones. LOL _

_Anyway, thank you so much for the very kind reviews! I'm glad you enjoyed my tale :D_

Elizabeth paced at the foot of John's bed. Since that one moment, that glimpse of consciousness, hours before, he'd been still, just as deathly quiet as he'd been. She paused and glanced up at the second IV that slowly dripped, feeding the Alenius anti-toxin into John's body. It'd been twelve hours since they'd started treatment. By the insistence of Carson, she'd slept and ate again, but when she'd returned, John had still been the same. _How long?_ She sighed loudly and crossed her arms, hugging herself as she tried to quell her worry.

"We must be patient, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth turned her head and nodded slightly at Teyla. Leave it to the astute Athosian woman to recognize her mood. "I know. But, he woke up earlier."

"Yes," Teyla nodded. "I believe that is a good sign."

"He's strong," Ronon's deep voice added. "He'll pull through."

Elizabeth smiled thinly at Ronon, wishing she could share the unwavering confidence he had. She looked back at John, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest as Carson examined him. At least John was breathing on his own and without a ventilator. When Carson had made the decision to extubate John, shortly before his brief flirt with consciousness, she'd had high hopes he was finally on the mend. She closed her eyes momentarily. _He is. He's on the mend. Believe that._

Hearing footsteps approaching, Elizabeth opened her eyes and smiled at Carson. "Any change?"

Carson nodded. "Aye, he's steadily improving. I've been able to take him off the hypotension medication as well as the medications for arrhythmia." He smiled. "I think he's turned the corner. I was just about to try and rouse him. I'd like to see him conscious, even if it's briefly."

Elizabeth slowly smiled as she nodded. "Me too." Her voice was laced with relief; something that apparently wasn't lost on Carson. She looked down as he squeezed her forearm gently.

"I think we're through the woods on this one, Elizabeth."

"Thanks to me, but please, don't feel the need to recognize that! It's not like I was nearly killed or anything."

Elizabeth looked past Carson and flashed a tolerant smile to Rodney who lay in the bed next to John's. "It was a group effort, Rodney, but thank you."

"Huh," Rodney's expression remained annoyed for a minute longer before it softened slightly. "At least he's going to be okay."

Elizabeth's smile turned fond as she noticed the caring tone of Rodney's voice, and how it permeated his expression. She held her smile as he looked up, noticing her gaze as well as the gazes of Ronon and Teyla.

"What?" Rodney's face immediately hardened. "I just got him broken in. Do you realize what I'd have to go through to break in another military hotshot if something happened to him?" Rodney turned his head away and sunk deeper into his bed. He closed his eyes, apparently ending the conversation.

Elizabeth smiled for a moment at Carson before he returned to John's bed.

-------------------------------

Light.

Through a thin veil, the first thing he was aware of was light. The darkness that had shrouded him for longer than he knew was giving way as the warm caress of light pushed its way in.

A voice.

"Come on, son. Open your eyes."

Were they closed? Could he open them? He tried, but he was so tired. _Just let me sleep... leave me alone._ His groan was slight, pitiful... not doing justice to how he felt. But, the voice wouldn't be deterred.

"That's it. I know ye are there, Colonel. It's time for ye to wake up, lad."

The heavy accent was familiar to him. _Carson?_

"John?"

Another voice, this one light, quiet... female. _Elizabeth..._

"Colonel, wake up!"

The first voice... Carson... returned, this time louder, more insistent.

A primal urgency set off an alarm within him and he pulled in a deep breath in response before letting it out with a quiet moan. Slowly, the veil... his eyelids lifted and he focused on Carson's close face as the doctor's frown was broken by a large, dimpled smile.

"Canna have ye sleeping your life away," Carson backed away from him.

"Not that I didn't enjoy the peace and quiet!"

John blinked, trying to process the third voice. The task was easier as lucidity rapidly swept through him. "M'Kay?" He turned his head and looked past Carson spotting Rodney on the bed next to him, a thick bandage swathing his left shoulder and arm. "Wha...?"

"I was nearly killed by mutant Pegasus lions trying to find a cure for you, thank you very much," Rodney shifted in his bed. "Just once I wish things with you weren't so damn complicated." He stared hard at John. "You're a real pain in the ass." One corner of Rodney's mouth twitched; the only subtle change to his acerbic expression, but one John noticed.

"My leg?" Coherent words came easier to John as his grogginess wore off. He closed his eyes and coughed weakly against his scratchy throat. When he opened his eyes again, Carson held a cup with a straw close to his mouth.

"Water. Take a sip. It'll help the throat."

John nodded and took a small drink of water, the cool wetness soothing his parched throat. He let his head settle back into the pillow and glanced down at his leg. Heavily bandaged and elevated, it was essentially immobile. He didn't feel much pain, but suspected something in Carson's stash of drugs was responsible for that. "Doc... leg?" He insisted.

"You'll need a fair bit of physical therapy," Carson reassured with a smile, "but I expect ye to make a full recovery."

John inhaled deeply before he exhaled in relief. "Thanks Doc." It was at that point he noticed Teyla, Elizabeth and Ronon standing quietly at the end of his bed. He smiled. "Hey."

Teyla and Elizabeth walked up on opposite sides of his bed while Ronon stood at the foot, his eyes boring into John's.

John stared back, searching Ronon's unreadable expression for some hint as to what the Satedan was thinking. His attention was diverted by a warm grasp on his left hand. He turned his head and smiled at Elizabeth. "You look tired."

Elizabeth arched her brows. "I am, no thanks to you." An exasperated sigh escaped her but her face still held a warm smile. "I expect you to get better now, Colonel."

"That's the plan," John replied. He turned his head and met Teyla's fond expression.

Teyla inhaled deeply. "Rest and heal, John."

"Sounds like good advice to me," Carson cut in, "and on that note, time for everyone to leave and let my patients rest."

"Well, I'm not tired," Rodney piped up, "but oh yes, I forgot. That doesn't matter."

Teyla turned towards Rodney. "I could sing you an Athosian lullaby, Dr. McKay. It calms our children and helps them sleep."

Rodney opened his mouth to reply but paused, his gaze narrowing. "Just what are you implying?"

John stifled a chuckle as Teyla's expression turned innocent. "Nothing."

Muttering under his breath, Rodney turned his attention to his data pad, adeptly ignoring all of them.

Carson reached up and pulled a privacy curtain between their beds before walking away with Teyla and Elizabeth. After a few steps, he stopped and looked back at Ronon. "Everyone lad, that includes you. The Colonel needs his rest now."

John stared back as Ronon's gaze never left him.

"In a minute, Doc," Ronon grumbled.

John glanced at Carson as the doctor's eyes flicked between him and Ronon before he pursed his lips and nodded in understanding.

"Aye, just don't be too long." Carson turned back and walked across the infirmary with Elizabeth and Teyla, leaving John and Ronon alone.

John looked back to Ronon and met his intense gaze. Gratitude filled John as memories washed over him. Together, they'd barely escaped alive. By himself... John sighed deeply, knowing that he owed Ronon his life, not only because of the Satedan's formidable physical strength, but also from his strength of character. More than once, John knew Ronon kept him conscious, took care of him, and kept him alive. The gratefulness he felt must've shown in his expression, for abruptly a smile turned up one side of Ronon's mouth and he walked over to stand next to John's bed.

John looked up at him. "I... I can't begin to..."

"You don't have to," Ronon interrupted.

"You saved my life," John stated quietly. Somehow it felt like an understatement, but as he stared at Ronon, he knew it was almost all he needed to say. John lifted his hand towards Ronon and made a fist. "Thanks."

Ronon gently tapped his own fist against John's and nodded. "You're welcome." His smile broadened to a grin; something John rarely saw in the big man. "Get some sleep, Sheppard." He turned and started away from John's bed.

"Thought I was in charge," John called quietly towards Ronon.

Ronon turned his head, his eyes full of mischief. "You are... most of the time." He resumed his path towards the door.

John chucked as he pushed his head deeper in the pillow. It hadn't been long since he'd made the choice to bring Ronon onto his team; a choice Elizabeth had been tentative about. Truthfully, a small lingering doubt had plagued John as well, but that was expected. It was something a commanding officer dealt with every time he introduced a new person to an established team. Will they fit in? Do they have what it takes? Will this work? John sighed in contentment as he laid that doubt to rest. Ronon belonged with them, he was sure of it. Relaxing, John let the healing power of sleep overtake him.

---------------------------

_Two months later_

Sweat trickled down his cheek as John tuned out the persistent throbbing from his leg and forced it to comply. He was used to the pain, the dull thrumming reminding him he was healing... slowly, but surely. Pain was his ally now. It drove him to get better and gave him something to focus on. Normalcy was his goal and he was going to make damn sure he achieved it.

"One more, Sheppard."

Ronon's voice was subtly encouraging and John's grip on the supporting handles tightened as he pulled in a deep breath. He exhaled slowly through clenched teeth as he pushed the weight upwards. The quad machine was the worst, exercising and demanding performance from the very muscles of his leg that had been decimated by injury.

"That's it." Ronon reached over the large machine and secured the weights into place, before John relaxed his legs. He lay there a moment, taking the time to pull in a few deep breaths.

Ronon walked around the machine and looked down at him. "You okay?"

John nodded back. Once he'd healed enough to start physical therapy, Ronon had been his constant workout companion.

Ever since they'd established regular contact with Earth, Atlantis had gained a few luxuries it was lacking, not the least of which was a full time physical therapist and exercise facilities including a full weight room. John had pushed for the latter, stating plainly that his guys needed to be strong and in top shape. The SGC had agreed.

Every week his PT gave him new exercises, increased the reps of the exercises he had, and made sure John knew in no uncertain terms that he was not to push it beyond those limits. Period. Smiling slightly, John remembered that first workout after he'd been through orientation with his PT.

_He looked up and watched Ronon cross the gym towards him. John gritted his teeth and forced his knees to extend and lift the mere twenty pounds he'd set on the machine. PT said five reps, but he didn't see why he couldn't up that to ten..._

"_How many?"_

_Ronon's voice broke John's concentration and he let the weights down. "Seven." _

"_Aren't you supposed to just do five?"_

_John pursed his lips and looked up, meeting Ronon's half amused look with an annoyed one of his own. "Beckett sent you."_

_Ronon smiled slightly. "And Harry," he answered, naming John's PT. _

_John forced his legs to complete another rep. "Eight." He glanced up at Ronon. "I don't need a babysitter."_

_Ronon walked around the machine and put his foot on the crossbar._

_John flexed his legs and pushed against him, but Ronon held steady. A shock of pain shot up John's bad leg and he hissed in pain before glaring at Ronon. _

"_You have a choice, Sheppard," Ronon started, completely unfazed by John's cold look, "you either let me workout with you, or you'll be watched by Beckett."_

_Cynicism replaced the cold anger on John's face as he shook his head. "Somehow, I don't think you came up with that arrangement."_

_"Beckett's idea," Ronon confirmed. "He thought you'd over do it." Ronon let his foot slide off the machine and he walked next to Sheppard before extending a hand at him. "Won't hurt me to workout either." _

_John smiled and took his hand..._

"Sheppard?"

Ronon's voice snapped him back to the present. "Yeah." He pushed himself up and stood, wincing slightly at a twinge of pain from his leg. He knew Ronon was watching him as he limped a few steps before his stride turned normal. He waved absently at his workout partner. "I'm good."

Ronon stopped next to a rack with several different weights stacked on it. He handed two thirty-pound weights to John.

John held the weights tightly and flexed his arms. "Ronon?" He looked up, watching as Ronon grabbed two more weights and mimicked John's motions.

"What?"

"You know, the T'eshii are still out there. We're going to have to stay sharp." John lifted the weights again.

"Yeah, I know. I won't be surprised by them again." Ronon's tone held a confident note of finality.

John smiled and flexed his arms again. "I don't doubt it. But, next time we get stranded off world, it's your turn to get beat up." He chuckled as he looked up and met Ronon's wry expression.

What passed for a quiet chuckle escaped Ronon as he looked down and continued his workout. "No way, Sheppard."

John just laughed.

--The End--


End file.
